


After the Barricade

by EnjolrasAmy



Category: Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-09
Updated: 2012-12-10
Packaged: 2017-11-20 16:55:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 20
Words: 25,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/587630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnjolrasAmy/pseuds/EnjolrasAmy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Multi-chapter fic. Starts before the barricades, but with a twist... the barricades succeed! Love, madness and redemption occur. AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meetings and Revelations

“The people will hear. We will not be alone. It is time to overthrow this elite society. Lamarque is fighting for our cause in Parliament, let us fight for it in the streets!” cried Enjolras to a wave of cheers from the students gathered in the cafe to hear their leader speak. “Come my friends, and fight. We must decide where to make our stand. I was thinking of the Rue de la Chanvrerie. Any objections?” All gathered looked deep into Enjolras’ dark eyes, mesmerised by the emotions that stirred within them. This man was not human; he was more of a God. Standing there, with his pale skin and dark hair, anyone could be mistaken for thinking that one of God’s right hand men was standing there, liberating France his task, his Herculean labour. No one spoke, all struck by the beauty of the man, the passion that burned within him. He knew best, he was the military leader. He fought for the people, not against them. Enjolras went on, crying out “Where are the leaders of the land, where are the swells who run this show? Only one man and that’s Lamarque speaks for the people here below” Here, Marius raised his hand. Enjolras nodded his permission for Marius to speak, thinking he had news.  
“Lamarque is ill and fading fast! Won’t last the week out so they say!” Enjolras looked sad for a moment; he hadn’t thought that it would be so soon. He would never let his followers see his emotion, that would be weakness he couldn’t afford. He summed up his talk quickly by saying,  
“With all the anger in the land, how long before the judgement day, before we cut the fat ones down to size? Before the barricades arise!” Enjolras stepped down from the pool table where he made his speeches. With this, the group knew they were dismissed. They pulled on their cloaks and left the cafe in groups. Courfeyrac and Combeferre pointed to Grantaire who was scribbling away on some paper. Shaking their heads, they left the cafe, following Feuilly, Jean Prouvaire and Joly.

Marius stopped and looked back at Enjolras. He understood, and came over. Marius whispered, “May I?” Enjolras considered for a moment, and then nodded his head slowly, before muttering,  
“We’ll all be there. Go and charm her, and if possible, get married before the fight, as I don’t believe we will survive, unless God himself smiles upon us.” He briefly clasped Marius’ hand, before Marius dipped his head in a small bow to Enjolras and left. Enjolras glanced around the room, before spotting Grantaire. His face quickly rearranged itself into the cold, hard look he was famous for. He crept up behind Grantaire, checking what he was scribbling away at. ‘Holy God!’ Enjolras thought. ‘He sees me like this?’ Grantaire started when he sensed Enjolras behind him. He quickly covered the paper with another one and grabbed his bottle of wine, before taking a swig.  
“En-Enjolras” he stammered. “I-I was just leaving” Quickly he stood up to go, before Enjolras grabbed his arm, stopping him. Breathing in his smell, Enjolras instantly felt a warm feeling spread through him. He, who was so cold and hard, was suddenly flushed with warmth. No girl had ever affected him so. He looked into Grantaire’s eyes, and was shocked that what he felt was reflected in his eyes. Blinking quickly, he stepped back from Grantaire and immediately met with a feeling like he had just walked into a freezer. He knew his expression was changed into its normal scowl. He nodded curtly and walked out. Grantaire just stood in shock and looked at the paper on which he had drawn his forbidden pleasure. He was affected by the image, and thrust it onto the fire before following Enjolras out, determined to not catch up with him.


	2. A Chance Meeting

The next day, Grantaire was having one of his few sober spells until the money came in for his next round of drink. He was walking through the streets, thinking of last nights meeting. He turned a corner and bumped into Enjolras, who too was thinking about the meeting, and thinking about the barricade, and Grantaire... As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he liked the man more than he could show. As he looked up, annoyed that someone could walk into him and he not notice it before, he saw himself looking into the eyes he had often thought about that day, no matter how hard he tried to pull away. Enjolras glanced at Grantaire, taking in the fact that he was sober, and pushed him roughly aside. This time it was Grantaire that grabbed Enjolras’ arm, a touch forbidden by the ABC. No one was supposed to touch the leader unless he initiated it. He was blessed, and would lead them to victory. Enjolras jumped; startled that he enjoyed the touch. Grantaire pulled him closer and moved his hand around to Enjolras’ chest. He placed it over his heart, relieved that he didn’t pull away. Enjolras just stood in shock. He actually enjoyed this attention, from a drunken sot! Shaking his head, he tried to pull away, but instead found himself taking Grantaire’s hand and leading him to his house on the Rue St Dennis.

Enjolras opened the door and led Grantaire through to the living room, before pouring him a glass of wine and leaving to go and calm himself down. When he was out of sight, he stopped and examined himself in the only mirror in the house. He looked the same, but he realised that what he felt for Grantaire was...love. To love another man was forbidden by the scriptures, but he couldn’t help it! He hoped Marius was having more luck with his love. What was her name again? Catherine, Collette? Cosette, that was it. He knew her father well, having met with him to approve the father before Marius was free to court his love with Enjolras’ blessing. As he was looking at himself, his eyes strayed to the jacket he would wear while fighting, the revolutionary red with the gold trim. He also saw the tricolour, hidden beneath the jacket. If the police knew it was there, he would be executed. He smiled to himself. He probably would die anyway, and he’d rather go out fighting than lead to his death like a criminal. That would destroy the ABC! He had to get the plans sorted. No mortal emotion should deter him from the path he was destined to tread. Grantaire stood behind him, looking at his love, and the jacket he was looking at, before smiling and slipping his arm around Enjolras’ waist. Enjolras looked at him in surprise, before melting into his touch and leading the way upstairs. Enjolras nuzzled up to Grantaire as he went upstairs, allowing his icy manner to disappear. ‘Let Grantaire see the real me’ he thought. He pushed open the door to his bedroom, and quickly made his way to the bed, before Grantaire was on him, pushing against him. Together, the two fumbled with their clothes and fell panting onto the bed. Enjolras kissed Grantaire’s bare chest, while Grantaire bit and pulled at Enjolras’ ear. Enjolras moaned in pain and pleasure as Grantaire slid into him and they moved together in the forbidden territory.

Much later that day, Enjolras stirred, and saw Grantaire on the bed beside him. “Wake up love” he said softly. Grantaire stirred.  
“Hmm?” he mumbled sleepily, before pushing himself back onto Enjolras and kissing his nose. “We must go” Enjolras told him. “It’s time for the meeting. This day has gone by so quickly!”  
“This house is so big!” mumbled Grantaire. Enjolras nodded. He knew where Grantaire lived, and knew it was small compared to his home. He too had felt lonely in its large, empty rooms. “Come live with me,” he said. “We’ll get your stuff after the meeting if you want to come”.   
“You mean it?” Grantaire asked, hopefully.  
“Of course I do. You are my love, and I don’t want to have another minute without you by my side.” Enjolras kissed Grantaire back, and scrambled out of the bed to find his cloths. Throwing Grantaire his, Enjolras quickly washed and scrambled into his black breeches and black jacket. Adjusting his tie, he left with Grantaire and together they walked in silence to the ABC cafe, contended in each other’s company.


	3. A Proposal

“Marius. My Marius!” cried Cosette.   
“Mademoiselle” Marius replied, “Will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”   
“But what will papa say? Monsieur, please do not ask this of me. Papa does not know you, we are meeting in secret. Come on a formal visit tomorrow, and meet papa. I will ask him to receive you tomorrow.”  
“It will be alright, Cosette. He has met my friend”  
“Who? That student who came by here the other day? What was his name? Enjolras?”  
“Yes Cosette, that is him.”  
“Papa said he looked like trouble. Please, I will ask him to receive you, but if he rejects you, we must both part as I cannot leave him!”  
“You cause me great pain Mademoiselle.”  
“And I myself! Oh Monsieur Marius, please come tomorrow when the clock strikes nine. We are normally up and planning our day by then. He is usually more persuadable in the morning. Look smart about it!”  
“I will do as you say, Mademoiselle Cosette. May I soon be able to call you Madame Marius!”  
“Oh, I hope so to! Au revoir Monsieur! Until tomorrow!”  
And with that, she left Marius by the gate. Marius stood and stared at the spot where she had stood. He could still smell her perfume on the air. He stood there for several minutes. It was when the clock struck seven that he remembered about the meeting in the cafe. He headed off at a run to meet with Enjolras and plan the rebellion.


	4. Everything Changes

Back at the cafe, the students had gathered to discuss the supplies they had gathered and the support of the people. There was no great speech from Enjolras to look forward to, they were there to plan, not to listen to pretty words. Enjolras, his tie eschew, was everywhere at once. Enjolras looked up from a street map he had been pouring over with Joly when the door banged open. Combeferre ran in its wake, shouting “Enjolras! At Notre Dame the sections are prepared!” Feuilly and Courfeyrac followed him in adding,  
“At Rue du Bac they’re straining at the leash” (Feuilly)  
“Students, workers, everyone! There’s a river on the run! Like the flowing of the tide Paris is coming to our side!” (Courfeyrac). Enjolras said aloud,  
“The time is near!” and added to himself ‘so near, it’s stirring the blood in their veins’ and then he projected a warning to the group, particularly Grantaire, his love-“Don’t let the wine go to your brains!” Enjolras glanced at Grantaire and saw him visibly gulp. Suddenly, Enjolras was in full flow, discussing the military tactics and ideas on how to get more of the people onto his side. “For the Army we fight is a dangerous foe. With the men and the arms, we never can match. It is easy to sit here and swot them like files. But the National Guard will be harder to catch. We need a sign, to rally the people, to call them to arms, to bring them in line!” Here, Marius rushed in. “Marius, you’re late” chastised Enjolras. “I take it you were successful?”  
“I have to go back tomorrow at nine” he replied, slightly out of breath “to talk to Monsieur Fauchelevant” Marius smiled wryly. “She also said that her father thought you were trouble, Enjolras!” Enjolras laughed.  
“Well, that’s not surprising!” he chuckled. “Considering I first met him when I was looking after our friendly wine cask!” Here his voice softened slightly as he talked of Grantaire. But no one, save maybe Marius and Grantaire himself noticed it.

Clapping Marius on the shoulder, he quickly went over to the pool table and climbed upon it to issue questions and survey his fellow revolutionaries. He cut a magnificent figure, his dark suit and hair and pale skin climbing up onto a podium to deliver a message of hope and resilience. No one could have looked at him as a cold, hard person then, as the passion of his work for a free France shone through every cell in his being. “Well Courfeyrac do we have all the guns?” he shouted across the room. “Yes, we do Enjolras” Courfeyrac replied,  
“In a safe place, locked up until we need them”. Enjolras nodded his approval, before spotting Combeferre and Feuilly chatting in a corner, completely oblivious to Enjolras’ presence.  
“Feuilly, Combeferre our time is running short!”  
“Sorry Enjolras!” they replied, giving their leader their full attention from then on. Enjolras spotted his love drinking. Again. He needed him sober in case the call to arms came now!  
“Grantaire put the bottle down! Do we have the guns we need?”  
“Enjolras, give me brandy on my breath and I’ll breathe them all to death!”  
“Hush!” Enjolras said, looking over at him. Suddenly, Gavroche came sprinting into the cafe. Enjolras looked at the boy curiously. “Why have you come here to disturb us, child?”  
“Just thought you ought to know something. But it’ll cost ya!”  
“Ha, you cheeky wretch, we won’t pay you. Tell us your news!”  
“Most certainty O wise and revered leader! General Lamarque is dead! There, do I get payment?”  
“Gavroche, thank you for bringing us this news. Now go home to your mother, there will be fighting in the streets soon!”  
“Don’t have a mother” Gavroche replied. “I’m an orphan. Thought you knew that!” Lesgles stood up.  
“O Apollo!” he asked. “Let me take this boy with me. My brother is dead and I’d like to rear a child of my own.”  
“It shall be as you ask” Enjolras replied. “Gavroche, go with Lesgles when this meeting is finished. That is your payment. Friends,” he began, addressing the group. “Lamarque is dead. Lamarque, his death is the hour of fate. The people’s man. His death, it’s the sign we await! On his funeral day, they will honour his name, with the light of rebellion ablaze in their eyes! From their candles of grief, we will kindle our flame. On the tomb of Lamarque shall our barricade rise. The time is near! Let us welcome it gladly with courage and cheer! Let us take to the streets with no doubt in our hearts, but a jubilant shout! They will come one and all! They will come when we call!” After this statement, the entire cafe rose to their feet, cheering Enjolras. Any doubts they had had about the rebellion were dispelled in an instant.  
“Viva Lamarque! Viva Liberty! Long Live the Republic!” they all cried. Enjolras raised his hand and they quietened down respectively.  
“My friends” he began, “let us meet at the Rue de la Chanvrerie at noon tomorrow to start building our barricade! Lamarque’s funeral will take place by the end of the week. We must make haste to build our barricade, and spread word to the people! Go my friends! They will hear the people sing, singing the songs of angry men. It is the music of a people who will not be slaves again! When the beating of your heart echoes the beating of the drums, there is a life about to start when tomorrow comes!” Combeferre couldn’t help himself. He followed Enjolras’ example.  
“Will you join in our crusade who will be strong and stand with me?” Courfeyrac joined in.  
“Then join in the fight that will give you the right to be free!” Enjolras summed it up-  
“One more day before the storm! At the barricades of freedom! When our ranks begin to form. Will you take your place with me? Tomorrow we’ll discover what our God in heaven has in store. One more dawn, one more day. One day more!” Cheering, the students surged out of the cafe. Marius and Grantaire held back.  
“Enjolras!” cried Marius. Enjolras looked up from where he was fastening his cape. “I may not be there at first. I have to meet Cosette’s father!”  
“Don’t forsake us Marius! Go to your meeting, but meet us at the Rue de la Chanvrerie when you can.” Enjolras clasped Marius’ hand in a brief shake.  
“And good luck, Enjolras” Marius added. “I will come when I can.” With that, Marius went out. Enjolras released the stiffness from his shoulders and went over and kissed Grantaire. “Whatever happens from now on” he whispered to him huskily, “I love you, and that’s all that matters to me”. Grantaire didn’t say a word, just kissed him back and slipped his hand into Enjolras’. Together they walked out into the twilight.


	5. Will he, won't he?

“Excuse me, sir, but there is a man wanting to see you and Mademoiselle Cosette at the door. Shall you receive him?” asked a maid, knocking on the study door. Jean Valjean looked startled for a minute, before looking towards Cosette, who had blushed very prettily. He had an idea it may be her love, she had not looked herself for days. Valjean nodded to the maid, who curtsied and left, before returning with Marius. She curtsied again, leaving the visitor in the glare of Valjean. Marius bowed.  
“Monsieur” he began, “I have come to ask your permission to marry your daughter. My name is Baron Marius Pontmercy. I am a part time lawyer and English teacher. My house is in the Rue St Dennis. I...” Here, Valjean cut him off with a wave of his hand. He paused for a minute, before asking Cosette,  
“Is this acceptable to you? You wish to marry Baron Pontmercy, given that he is a lawyer and teacher?”  
“Yes papa, I do” Cosette replied.  
“I have always done my best for you. Now you will leave me.”  
“Oh no Monsieur! Your home shall be with Cosette and myself, and not a day shall pass without calling you father, as I hope you will be a father to us both” Marius replied.  
“Ha ha!” laughed Jean. “Please Monsieur, call me father, and stay for a drink. I’m sure my daughter will like it!”  
“Thank you papa!” Cosette ran and hugged Valjean, before saying to Marius “Thank you. I will try and be an honest wife and keep your house for you.”  
“I know which house you mean” Valjean said to Marius. “As a wedding gift, please take this house in Rue Plummet as your home. It is Cosette’s after all.”  
“Thank you father” Marius whispered to him. Valjean smiled. He had forgotten what a pleasure it was to hear the word father said to him, about him. He rang a small bell and the maid came back into the room, carrying a tray of tea and cakes.  
“Please, my son, take a seat” Valjean said. Marius sat, and Cosette served the tea so gracefully, she looked like a fallen angel who has been given the best news imaginable. “My son” said Valjean after a pause, “I must ask you about a gentleman, Monsieur Enjolras. He is a student, is that true?”  
“Yes and no father” Marius replied. “He is a teacher like me, and the leader of a people who fight for a free France. But he is also a student of law.”  
“We are not royalists here. I have had to play my part as a mayor in Montreil-sur-Mer, completely against my will. I have no love for the monarchy. My son, all I ask, is if you go fighting, come back in one piece, because otherwise, Cosette will be devastated and I will have to deal with a sad daughter. Now go with a father’s blessing to the barricades. Long live the Republic!”  
“Marius” Cosette said softly, “remember a heart full of love, a heart full of you. My heart goes with you, and I pray that God will bring you home to me soon.” Marius stood up, too choked to speak. He had a blessing from his father in law and his fiancée. He had never dreamed that they would let him go so easily. Marius bowed to Cosette, and even deeper to Jean Valjean, who inclined his head in return. Marius strode out of the house and jumped onto his horse. He looked back and raised a hand to Cosette who stood watching out of the window, with Valjean next to her. She whispered, “Come back safe and soon, my love!” Marius galloped off into the midday sun, to fight for freedom. Cosette turned away from the window as soon as he had gone. Together, she and Valjean put on their outdoor gear, and went to shop for wedding fabrics before the barricades rose too high and closed all of the shops.


	6. The Snake in the Grass

Enjolras directed his friends around the square in the middle of the Rue de la Chanvrerie. His barricade was getting taller by the minute, a feet of engineering so simple but it looked so complicated. He himself was guarding their flag, the red revolutionary banner. He was dressed in his usual breeches, shirt and tie, but he had at last put on his revolution jacket. Grantaire passed by him and whispered, “You, my love, look hot!” Enjolras smiled at the compliment, before gently hitting Grantaire to remind him that they couldn’t reveal their love in public. Just then, he noticed a new figure coming up the street towards him. Pulling his rifle closer, Enjolras took aim, before calling out,  
“Identify yourself!”  
“Peace monsieur! I come here as a volunteer.”  
“Come closer. Let me see you” Javert swept up the final few yards with his long stride, before bowing before Enjolras.  
“Monsieur, I used to serve in the National Guard. I know their ways, I will be able to gather information from behind enemy lines.”  
“Welcome, my friend. You will be most valuable. Now please, help us build this barricade to withstand their weapons.”  
“Mattresses” whispered Javert. “They will stop the cannon blasts from doing too much damage.” Enjolras nodded, the suggestion was a sound one. Pointing at two students who were doing nothing, he said to them,  
“Come, my friends, and get every mattress you can. My friend, Monsieur...”  
“Oh, Passé. Monsieur Henri Passé.” Javert answered.  
“Monsieur Passé will direct you. Hurry, before the barricade gets too high!”

They were hardly gone five minutes, when Marius appeared on his horse. “Enjolras!” he cried. “She accepted!”  
“That’s really good news, Marius. Congratulations.” Enjolras told him, but his voice was flat. He was focused on the task in hand, and didn’t want to become concerned over Marius’ love life. Marius’ smile slid off his face, as he left Enjolras and took his horse to the tavern’s stable yard where he could wait out the battle. At last, Javert returned with the mattresses and started to lay them out. Gavroche, who had come with Lesgles, pulled on Enjolras’ arm. Enjolras bent down to listen to him.  
“We have a spy in camp,” he said. “That Monsieur Passé is a secret police officer”  
“Impossible!” cried Enjolras  
“Have you seen both of those students who you sent with him?”  
“No...” Enjolras said slowly, before realising what Gavroche was saying. Marius came running around from the stable, before saying to Enjolras,  
“Come and see-I don’t believe what I see!” Enjolras followed Marius at a run. He came to a wall behind the stables, and saw the two students he had sent with Henri shot in the back. Enjolras’ expression turned back to his well-known, hard expression as he realised what he had done.  
“Gavroche, come with me. Marius, stay here for a few more minutes. Gavroche will come to get you when we’re done.” Enjolras and Gavroche left. Marius sank down in the straw thinking of how happy Enjolras had been recently, and how Grantaire was no longer being so cynical about what they were doing and fighting for. He chuckled to himself. It was about time Enjolras found love, even if it was with another man.


	7. The First Attack

Enjolras gathered all of his friends around him. “We are down two men!” he said. “Has anyone seen them?” Passé, did your two come back with you?”  
“Yes, they did.”  
“Liar!” The cry came from the back of the crowd, where Gavroche had been lurking, as told by Enjolras. “Good evening dear inspector, lovely evening my dear. I know this man my friends his name’s Inspector Javert. He killed the two students, I’ve seen it, and it’s true. That only goes to show what little people can do!”  
“Bravo little Gavroche, you’re the top of the class!” cried Grantaire  
“So what are we going to do with this snake in the grass?”asked Jean Prouvaire  
“Tie this man and take him to the tavern in there. The people will decide your fate Inspector Javert!” snarled Enjolras, his dark eyes growing hard and cold  
“Take the bastard now and shoot him! I’ll do it myself!” Courfeyrac shouted. Joly was standing as a sentry.  
“A man in uniform approaches!” Enjolras pulled his rifle close again.  
“What do you want?” he asked. Marius came running out from the stables.  
“Father!” he cried. “What are you doing here?”  
“I wanted to fight too” said Valjean simply.  
“But what if we both fall? What will happen to Cosette?” cried Marius.   
“She will be cared for. I sent a message to an old acquaintance, Sister Simplice, the most remarkable, blessed woman imaginable, and my good friend the Bishop Myriel. She was educated in a convent, as you know, and said that she would like to take the cloth if she feels that is what she wants” Jean replied. Enjolras put in,  
“Marius am I to be introduced to this man?”  
“I beg pardon, Apollo. This is my future father in law, Monsieur Fauchelevant”  
“I am honoured to serve under such a leader as you,” Valjean added with a small bow to Enjolras.  
“You see that prisoner in the tavern?” asked Enjolras. Jean Valjean nodded. “A volunteer like you. A spy who calls himself Javert.” Here, Valjean started. “The name means something to you, Fauchelevant?” asked Enjolras.  
“We’ve met” Valjean answered shortly. Suddenly, Joly shouted down to Enjolras,  
“They’re getting ready to attack!” Enjolras snatched a rifle off the nearby stock, and handed it to Valjean.  
“Take this and use it well, but if you shoot us in the back you’ll never live to tell!” Valjean nodded his consent to the conditions, before taking aim through the spokes of a wheel. 

Joly shouted down “Platoon of sappers advancing towards the barricade! Troops behind them, fifty men or more!”  
“Hold!” cried Enjolras, counting the moments before he knew there would be a certain kill. “Fire!” Gunshots echoed around the street. The leading troop fell, and the National Guard paused, uncertain as to how well armed the revolutionaries were. This gave Enjolras enough time to quickly come up with a strategy. He quickly passed a message onto Courfeyrac, who issued his new orders to the revolutionaries. The troop was starting to advance again. This time, Enjolras didn’t hesitate. “Fire!” he called again, before taking the ultimate task, running up the barricade to the summit to raise the red banner.  
“Apollo! Don’t!” Feuilly shouted, seeing what he was doing.  
“Snipers!” shouted Joly. Valjean heard this, and saw one aiming at Enjolras. He shot him, allowing Enjolras to put the flag in its proper place and jump down onto the pile of mattresses Gavroche had quickly placed there. His mission accomplished, he got up to see Valjean staring at him. Lesgles, from his position called out,  
“Ha! See how they run away!” Grantaire added,  
“By God, we’ve won the day!” Enjolras disagreed.  
“They will be back again, make an attack again.” He turned to Valjean. “For your presence of mind, for the deed you have done, I will thank you Monsieur when our battle is won.”  
“Give me no thanks Monsieur. There is something you can do” Jean Valjean told him.  
“If it is in my power,” agreed Enjolras  
“Give me the spy Javert; let me take care of him!”  
“Do what you have to do, the man belongs to you!” said Enjolras, giving up his prisoner, confident now that the battle would be won the next day. To his friends, he said: “The enemy may be regrouping. Hold yourselves in readiness. Come comrades, back to your positions. The night is falling fast!” With that, Enjolras left Valjean to dispose of Javert. 

Valjean moved swiftly to the tavern, grabbed Javert roughly and lead him to the back of the stables. Javert moaned softly as he saw his end approaching at the hand of the man he’d persecuted for so long. Valjean cut Javert’s bonds. “Get out of here, Javert.”  
“Why are you letting me go? I’ve hunted you. Take your revenge!”  
“You did your duty, nothing more. If I get out of here alive, you’ll find me in the Rue Plummet. Go!” Javert took off at a run, and Valjean fired a shot into the air. There was muted applause from around the barricade, from students who all thought the spy had been shot. Valjean walked slowly back to Enjolras, before handing him his gun and turning towards his son.


	8. Dawn Attack

The morning dawned all too quickly. Enjolras woke in the tavern, next to Grantaire. How the hell had he got there? Grantaire felt Enjolras stir beside him. He moaned, and slipped his arm around Enjolras’ waist to stop him getting up. Enjolras chuckled softly to himself and turned around, nuzzling Grantaire’s warm body. The National Guard would not wake up for another hour at least. Enjolras moved his face towards Grantaire’s, before pressing his mouth on his. Grantaire moaned and opened his mouth for Enjolras to do what he liked. There was a knock on his door. Enjolras jumped, startled. Quickly, he nudged Grantaire awake. “Hide, love” he said. “Someone is at the door!” Enjolras quickly pulled on his breeches, before looking around to see Grantaire hiding in the cupboard. “Come in!” he called. The door opened slowly. Marius entered.  
“Enjolras, it is time. We must do as my father did, lead an early attack. I have the men waiting for your command, except Grantaire. I couldn’t find him. They agree about being the night assassins. There is nothing fair about this war.”  
“I agree. Your strategy is sound. I also have no idea where the wine cask is. He’s probably dead drunk in a corner somewhere,” sneered Enjolras. In his hiding place, Grantaire heard his lover’s words and frowned. This wasn’t the Enjolras he knew. He then realised. He had seen the Marcelin Enjolras, the human, not the Apollo facade he maintained with his friends. Grantaire grinned to himself. That would be some ammunition he could use next time he had Enjolras at his mercy!  
“Come then, let’s hope the winecask wakes up before we leave!” grinned Marius, before bowing Enjolras down the stairs before him. Grantaire waited a couple of moments, before following them out and stumbling into the light.  
“It will be a surprise attack” Enjolras was saying. “We must move quickly and quietly. They will not expect us to abandon the barricade. I leave Monsieur Fauchelevant in charge of the barricade. Marius, can you stay along with fifteen students to maintain the facade that we are here.” Marius immediately saw what Enjolras was doing. He was protecting their family. He had heard of the final plan for his love, and knew that she would be desperately unhappy to lose both father and lover to the Republic. Enjolras pointed to the fifteen youngest, most scared looking students to hold the barricade. He then formed up his followers in a line. “Remember my friends” he said, “a quick stab and twist, then move on. We will thin their ranks. As each man strode out of the barricade, Enjolras clasped their hand in a brief good luck shake. With a glance back to where Marius and Valjean stood, he followed them out. Marius directed the remaining students to start a cooking fire and to take sentry positions. The attackers would be hungry when they came from their dawn raid, and he wanted to make sure breakfast was prepared for them. He looked over to Jean, who caught his eye, and smiled the smile of a father looking down at his favourite son. Marius and Jean Valjean busied themselves with the small duties of the barricade and avoiding any mention of Cosette.


	9. Victory

Now let’s get back to Enjolras and his troops. After sneaking out of the barricade, the students slipped into the square, where Enjolras silently pointed to the target. As luck would have it, there were no sentries, and only Javert, who had been welcomed back. Joly saw the spy first and quickly threw his knife at Javert, where it struck. Javert fell without a sound. Joly ran to get his knife, and fortunately didn’t recognise his kill, or Valjean’s cover would have been blown. He picked up his knife and crept into the neighbouring tent, and killed all on sight, the silent assassin. Enjolras stood proud in the middle of the square, looking just like Apollo made out of marble. His friends slowly emerged from the tents where they had carried out their deadly mission. Enjolras did a quick headcount-he had not lost a single man. He inwardly smiled to himself before leading the students back towards the barricade. Marius’ anxious face appeared as he heard footsteps. Smiling when he saw Enjolras, Marius called the remaining students and Valjean together to witness the triumphant assassins. “Marius” called Enjolras, “Do I smell breakfast?” before bursting into gleeful laughter, looking like the boy he still was.

During the morning, more and more of the people came to gape at the barricade, the silence of the city making them think that something was wrong, that one party was dead, they had nothing to fear. And indeed they didn’t. For the students were taking apart the barricade, and getting ready to march towards the palace, to end the monarchy once and for all. Enjolras was surrounded by admires, but he had only eyes for one person. Grantaire stood out to him from the crowds, a bright smile across his ugly, still youthful face. He mouthed ‘I’ll see you later!’ to Enjolras, who grinned in response. Enjolras eventually managed to make himself heard. “Citizens!” he began, climbing up onto a pedestal that had been quickly erected, but noticed Valjean slipping away quietly back to his daughter, Marius’ fiancée. Looking more Godly than ever, he began to talk. “We have won a great victory today. But we are not finished yet. Look at the palace, where Louis-Philippe still sits on his throne of blood! This will not end for you, les miserables, until he is dead and this monarchy overthrown! I promise you, if we succeed in this final mission, you will have a government that listens to you, and does not ignore the majority of the population! I do not ask for this position myself, this is the wrong time to make any sort of election speech. However, I do ask you to come with me to support this final mission! We must take this revolution to the gates of Louis-Philippe, to make him see the true feeling of our anger. My friends, it will be the last thing he ever hears, for myself and my comrades Courfeyrac and Combeferre will enter the maze of the palace to kill the king! Come with us!” And he launched into his favourite song to whip up support. “Do you hear the people sing? Singing the song of angry men? It is the music of a people who will not be slaves again. When the beating of your heart echoes the beating of the drums, there is a life about to start when tomorrow comes!” he began, his rich, tenor voice carrying to the back of the crowd. His comrades then joined in. “Will you join in our crusade, who will be strong and stand with me? Some will fall and some will live, will you stand up and take your chance? Then join in the fight that will give you the right to be free!” Fully whipped up into a frenzy now, the crowd followed the revolutionaries to the palace, singing all the while “Do you hear the people sing; say do you hear the distant drums? It is a future that they bring when tomorrow comes!” At the gates to the palace, the kings’ guard saw the swell of angry citizens coming towards them. In terror, they dropped their uniforms and weapons on the ground and ran out to join their fellows, ready to destroy their leader, who had taken so many of them away from their grieving families by force. Enjolras, Courfeyrac and Combeferre were pushed to the front of the mob. Here, they shook hands before the crowd, and forced their way into the palace, going in through the gates that the deserting soldiers had thoughtfully left open for them.


	10. To find a King...

The noise of the crowd dropped remarkably, when they pushed their way through the front doors. Enjolras nodded to his companions. “Remember, we want him as a prisoner to make an example of to the people. Kill him if you have to, but if he comes quietly, let him. Feuilly and Lesgles know how to chop wood; a head will not be much difference. Kill any guards and servants who try and attack you, but remember, we are not murders. Act in self-defence only, until we come face to face with the traitor himself! Good luck, and Godspeed!” With these words, the three companions snuck into the depths of the palace. They tried many doors leading to more hallways. They didn’t come across a single soul, only a bunch of keys, probably left by a careless guard. Enjolras began to despair. He thought the traitor had run while they were fighting. But that couldn’t happen! He had people watching all of the exits out of Paris. No. He had to keep looking. Suddenly, they came across a locked door. Nodding to each other, they used the keys they had acquired to gain entrance. It was the throne room of Louis-Philippe himself. And there the man was, calmly sitting on his throne, waiting for the guards to come and reassure him that his reign was safe. This was not the case. His door was opened by three angry students. One, in a fine red and gold jacket had a iciness and fire in his eyes that Louis-Philippe shuddered and had to look away from. The other two were more human. Louis-Philippe opened his mouth to scream for help, but the student in the red jacket was at his side in an instant, binding his hands.  
“What do you want with me, traitors?” the King asked.  
“You’re the real traitor to your people,” snarled Enjolras. “You took no notice of their petitions, just carried on sitting on your butt here with servants to wait on you, not caring that your people are starving!”  
“From the way you talk, and dress, you sound like a nobleman. Why do you revolt against me?”  
“I am Marcelin, of the house of Enjolras. My father is one of your most devoted subjects, but I opened my eyes when I came to study here. I saw the plight of your people, and was not alone in seeing the pain you cause. Thus, to stamp out your tyranny, Les Amis de ABC was formed. Now, they are going to give the people their long overdue care and attention they need. Viva la Republic! Viva Liberty!”  
“Enjolras...Enjolras! I remember. Your father let me know you were trouble. It’s a pity your insurrection happened now for you. Your own father agreed on the council that we should have an arrest warrant out for you, and then you would be executed as the traitor you are, to your family and King! It was due to be signed tomorrow. Had I have known what would have happened today, I would have signed it sooner!”  
“He is no father of mine!” screamed Enjolras. Courfeyrac and Combeferre looked at him in surprise. They had never seen Enjolras lose control like this before. Before they could stop him, Enjolras had smacked the King across the face, making his nose bleed, before collapsing weeping into Courfeyrac’s arms. Enjolras quickly pulled himself together and shot a look back to his two companions. They understood. They were to never mention to anyone that they had seen their leader cry. They nodded once before taking guard either side of the fallen King and escorting their prisoner from the throne room where he’d made his last stand.

As Enjolras and his prisoner appeared at the door to the palace, the people let out a great cheer. They knew that when the students emerged, they would either be prisoners, or gaolers. Seeing the fallen King at the mercy of the two students, and the Godlet with fire in his icy eyes was better than any bank holiday! They immediately surged forward to praise the students and to thank them for giving them their liberty. After a few minutes of this, with Enjolras standing aloof and away from all their attentions (to the dismay of several of the young women in the crowd), Enjolras raised his hand for silence. “Citizens!” he began. “We have liberated you from the tyranny that was the monarchy. This man before you is the person you have to blame for your plight! But no more! Les Amis de ABC will keep this man secure until a new government is formed, who will decide what to do with this traitor to the people!” At his words, there was anger in the crowd.  
“Kill the bastard now!” they roared. “He has murdered our families, friends. He should die now!” Enjolras smiled to himself. He knew that that would be the reaction.  
“Friends” he said again, “would you give this man an hour to make his peace with God, even though he has given you much grief. I assure you, that an hour from now, your wish will be granted. Viva Republic! Viva Liberty!”  
“Viva Les Amis de ABC!” the crowd roared back. Instantly they knew who they wanted to lead their parliament. They wanted Enjolras, the rebel student, who had succeeded for their leader.  
“I humbly beg your patience, friends, for one hour, and then this will be over. Les Amis de ABC, come with me.”

With this, Marius, Feuilly, Lesgles, Gavroche, Jean Prouvaire, Joly and Grantaire detached themselves from the crowd and stood with Enjolras, Combeferre and Courfeyrac to guard the prisoner and take him to the Royal Chapel to prepare him for his final hour. Enjolras directed Prouvaire and Joly to find the guillotine and let the crowd into the grounds of the palace. The balcony where the former King used to give his speeches was to be his execution scaffold. Marius was directed to find tables to fill the balcony so the traitor could be executed in full view. “I hate having to do this,” Enjolras murmured to Courfeyrac. “This will be another bloodbath. The guillotine is a hideous instrument. What right do we have to decide who lives and who dies?”  
“The people themselves chose this course. When this is over and a parliament is formed, we can push for the guillotine to be outlawed in France, and put a stop to the death penalty” Courfeyrac reassured him. “It is you the people want, Enjolras. Not any of us, even though we will be behind you every step of the way.”  
“I don’t want the job as president!” said Enjolras, horrified. “I was good in battle, yes, but that was because I was fighting for a cause I believed in. Now I have it, I don’t want anything else! Surely you are better for this than me!”  
“Enjolras, you know you studied law. You know the justice system inside out. Don’t hide by saying you’re not qualified or you don’t want it. The people want you. Please, lead them temporarily until a vote can be held to choose a new president and parliament.”  
“You leave me no choice Courfeyrac,” smiled Enjolras at his lieutenant. “Come, we must give the people what they asked for. His hour is up. Let us go and finally have this over with.” Grantaire looked up from where he’d been trailing behind Enjolras without him noticing. He wanted to hold Enjolras in his arms and comfort him, wipe away the sorrows from the boy he still was. “Later” he mumbled drunkenly to himself.


	11. End of an Era

Louis-Philippe looked at Combeferre with sadness in his eyes. He knew that his time had come. The people had spoken. How could he have missed the true thoughts of the population? They wanted to be listened to; they needed to be looked after, even the poorest, lowest woman in the city He hoped that God would be merciful to him in heaven. During his last hour, he had repented and regretted all of his sins. He wished that he could come back and make it right for the people, understand them. He saw the leader walk in. He looked into his eyes, and was surprised to find sorrow in there. Sorrow for what he had to do. “Louis-Philippe, I am so sorry,” Enjolras whispered as he knelt down before the former King. “I know my father didn’t agree with my cause, but I looked around and saw the suffering for myself. I had to do this. Believe me, if the people had not wanted this, I could never kill you. I do this only for the people.”  
“It will be another bloodbath!” warned the former King  
“No,” Enjolras said firmly. “One of the first things I am going to do if I get elected is to abolish the death penalty. I hope that yours will be the last one France ever sees. I do not hate you, as much as I preached that I do. I know you are a man and God can judge you best”  
“Enjolras, your father...he made me who I was. You know he was a close friend and advisor. He made me pay attention to his whims, not the wishes of the people.”  
“Be that as it may” said Enjolras gently, a surprise for Louis-Philippe himself, who had come to expect harshness from the dark haired young man, splendid in his red and gold jacket. “I will see my father understands his error, but I am sorry I can’t save you. The people’s wishes must come first. Have you made your peace, sir?”  
“I have” confirmed Louis-Philippe. “If you would accept it, I would like to give you my blessing. I hope that you can be a good leader of the people and make a fair country for them to live in.”  
“I accept your blessing, sire, and if I am not elected to the new parliament, I will make sure it is passed on”  
“No my friend” Louis-Philippe said. “Do not call me sire, and the blessing is for you alone. Know that I forgive you and understand what must be done.” At these words, Enjolras couldn’t stop a tear from falling down his face out of respect for the gentle man who had been led astray by his own father, who was responsible for the suffering of the people. Angrily he wiped it away before giving a curt nod to Combeferre, who helped Louis-Philippe up and gently bound his hands again. Louis-Philippe looked into the eyes of his gaoler and he was amazed at the pity he found in the eyes of all the students present. He sighed, and allowed them to walk him on his final journey. As he was lead nearer and nearer to the balcony, he paled at the sound of the citizens of Paris baying for his blood. Enjolras noted his concern, and placed a friendly hand upon his shoulder. Louis-Philippe then knew that Enjolras didn’t want to do this, but had to for the people. Light burst out in front of them as the balcony doors were flung open and Louis-Philippe saw the guillotine where his life would end. He gulped, and felt Enjolras push him forward. He didn’t have to look back to know the student had put his mask back on, and looked to despise him. Louis-Philippe sent a short prayer up to the Gods to have mercy upon this dark haired, dark eyed young man and to allow him to deal with his father who was responsible for so many deaths. “Speech!”Cried the crowd. Grantaire put his hand on Enjolras’ shoulder for comfort, knowing he didn’t want to do this. Enjolras wanted to lean into his lover’s touch, but had to go on. ‘Be strong’ he thought to himself.  
“Citizens!” began Enjolras, gaining the attention of the crowd to him and his prisoner. “The man you see before you is responsible for your suffering, for giving you the name Les Miserables. I now ask you, as this decision will change the course of this man’s life, do you forgive him?”  
“Never” roared the crowd in unison, before shouting at the fallen King.  
“Citizens, please” shouted Enjolras. They immediately shut up and turned their faces to the dark haired young man on the balcony. He turned to his prisoner and motioned for Feuilly to secure the former King under the guillotine. Lesgles, his head now hidden by a hood and dressed all in black, stood next to the leaver. “Under the powers I hold as the leader of a successful revolution, I declare you a traitor to your people and must suffer the consequences. The punishment for this crime is death. May God have mercy upon you soul, Louis-Philippe, former King of France.” With these words, Enjolras raised his hand. Lesgles watched him closely, and as soon as his hand dropped, he pulled the leaver. The blade shot down towards the helpless man’s neck, and with a sound of cracking bone and a whoosh, the head of Louis-Philippe was severed from his body. Enjolras closed his eyes and sent a short prayer up to the heavens to ask God’s forgiveness for what he’d done. He opened his eyes and spoke once more. “Citizens,” he began, “The time is ripe for a new parliament, one who will listen to your voices and not leave the poor in the dust, forgotten. An election will be held Saturday. On Friday, I invite you to a debate here in the palace where any man who fancies himself elected in the first Parliament may stand and proclaim why he would make the right leader. Direct any applications to the cafe Musain by the 20th hour of Thursday. The time of debate will be eleven o clock in the throne room of the palace.”  
“Viva Liberty! Viva Les Amis de ABC!” cried the crowd, before slowly filing out of the gates to start celebrating the victory. Enjolras looked at his fellow comrades.  
“The back room?” he enquired, before being deafened by the cheers from the few people on the balcony. He looked at the body of the dead man, and directed Gavroche to find a sheet and a spade. He returned a few minutes later, and together, Les Amis held a proper burial ceremony for the dead man. After Combeferre’s last strains of Latin had faded away, the students made their way to the Cafe Musain to have a drink and sort out their arguments for the election debate.


	12. Promises, promises...

Grantaire looked towards Enjolras, whose head was buried in a stack of notes. He sighed. It was like the old days, before the success of the revolution. Enjolras working all hours on schoolwork and revolution plans. He knew that he was working for his final exams and didn’t want to disturb him. Enjolras put his pen down with a sigh and closed his inkpot. He had finished at last, his last essay to be assessed. He looked into the corner and saw Grantaire sitting there, only a half finished glass of wine in front of him, and no bottles in sight. Enjolras smiled and walked over to Grantaire, who himself had been busy while Enjolras worked. Again, he had drawn his love, all flushed with success of the revolution and making him more beautiful than ever. Enjolras drew in a short breath at the skill Grantaire had shown with his drawing. He bent down and kissed him on the cheek. Grantaire stood up and was kissing him back with such power and passion that Enjolras was left powerless in Grantaire’s grip. However, he found out that he liked the loss of power. He who had been a leader for so long was glad to have someone else in charge. He could think and reflect. Grantaire looked deep into his eyes and dragged him out of the door. He’d only got halfway home when the urge became too strong. He pushed Enjolras against a wall in the nearest ally and started to kiss him again. Enjolras opened his mouth in shock, and Grantaire quickly took advantage, exploring all of Enjolras that he could reach. His immediate desire satisfied, he took Enjolras’ hand more gently this time and led him back to his home. They saw no one in the streets, for which Grantaire was glad for his companion, as he was sure no one wanted to see the mighty student leader flushed with desire and emotions he never thought he could feel. He knew Enjolras did not want people to see him like this anyway, and that was a good enough reason for Grantaire to try to keep themselves hidden. They eventually reached Enjolras’ house. Grantaire smiled at the sight, because he knew Enjolras would have prepared for every eventuality, and smothered a grin about what may be waiting for them. Enjolras pulled away from Grantaire’s embrace reluctantly and found his key. He opened the door and smiled as the familiar sights greeted him. His mirror, his black jacket slung casually over the banister, the stray papers from long ago essays littering the floor. He knew which room he didn’t want Grantaire to see yet, the room that he had written a note about. He pulled away from Grantaire, mumbling something about wanting a quick wash and dragged himself upstairs. He opened the door and took out the note from his pocket.

To whoever finds my body,  
My name is Marcelin Enjolras, only son of Julian Enjolras, a man of great worth in the court. Take the key in my pocket to my house, 6 Rue St Denis, and go to the top of the stairs. In a room on the left is a wardrobe. In it are all things I hold dear. Take them in the box and bury me with it near the pile of stones by the cafe. I know that if someone wants to follow my lead, they will know where to find me. Failing this, if he is still alive, give it to Grantaire, the only man who saved me from myself. Tell my father that I forgive him, and he at last got his wish-I died fighting for what I believed in, even though this differed from his own beliefs.  
Marcelin Enjolras

Enjolras burnt the note using his candle and opened up the wardrobe. Inside was a small, modest box, which held his most detailed maps and notes, notes that even Les Amis hadn’t seen. They were darker, and written by Enjolras in some of his darkest moments when he believed that he may die in the fight, so someone else could carry on, and take his spirit and plans with them. They were beautifully done, and inspired a message of hope and resilience to the lucky person who would have held this knowledge in their hands. He dug deeper and found the few things of sentimental value and his money. He pulled them out and looked at them, before remembering his lover and, carefully placing his things back in the box, he shut it away and quickly went to wash his face of gunpowder and blood. He moved back downstairs softly and looked into the living room to see Grantaire snoring softly on the couch. Poor Grantaire...he was giving up drinking to please him and it meant he was sleeping most of the time. Enjolras had secretly gone to Joly on the barricades, asking him about Grantaire’s problem. Joly thought Enjolras was talking about his disgust for Grantaire’s habits and had let slip more information. Enjolras snuck into the kitchen and found a very old bottle of wine. He started as he looked at the bottle. It was given to him by his father when he left to study law, the only gift he had from the traitor. He opened it and poured two small glasses, remembering the fact that Grantaire had had a little earlier. He chuckled at the thought of Grantaire pleasing him and what reward he might get for stopping. He crept into the living room and placed a glass on the table in front of Grantaire before kneeling on the floor by him and sipping his wine contentedly. After a few quiet moments, Grantaire twitched, wondering why it was so quiet. Thousands of possibilities went through his mind-had Enjolras been captured just as he turned around? Was he dead? Grantaire jumped up with a start and saw Enjolras quietly knelt down beside him sipping a glass of something dark red. “Enjolras!” he gasped. Enjolras looked up from his quiet meditation, staring at the floor, before indicating Grantaire’s glass. Grantaire slowly moved to a sitting position and reached out and picked up the glass. He swilled and smelt the wine, before smiling and recognising it to be a good wine. He raised his glass in a salute to Enjolras, who acknowledged it with a small bow of his head and sipped his drink. They drank in companionable silence until both were empty, reflecting on the past few days. Grantaire looked at Enjolras with soft eyes, silently asking a question. Enjolras paused a moment and then said to him: “Yes, Grantaire, I will”, leading Grantaire to stand up and knock Enjolras over on his way out of the room. Enjolras chuckled wryly, thinking of what Grantaire could be up to. He moved to the kitchen and washed up the glasses quickly before putting them away and going back to his floor space in the living room.


	13. An Engagement

Marius’ horse trotted gently up to the house. He knocked on the door, grateful that he had cleaned himself up enough and put on some spare clothes. The maid, Toussaint he remembered now, opened the door for him and bowed him into the sitting room, where Cosette sat with Jean Valjean. Cosette stood up as he entered, and looked at him in disbelief, before dashing over to the door and kissing him so passionately he couldn’t help but be startled. She immediately remembered her place, and backed down before Marius swooped her into an embrace of his own. “I love you,” he whispered repeatedly into her hair. She pulled away from his arms long enough to whisper,  
“I love you too,” before falling back into his arms in a dead faint. Marius looked at Jean Valjean, startled. Valjean smiled.  
“I didn’t tell her anything,” he said in way of explanation. “I wasn’t sure if Enjolras would want you to say anything, or keep it secret.” Marius nodded, he understood where Valjean was coming from.  
“Father, forgive me” he said. “I took part in the execution of the former King.”  
“You do not need to ask forgiveness son,” Valjean replied. “Louis-Philippe knew what must be done, the will of the people. Do not feel guilty, for, if I know the monarchy at all, he would have given Enjolras his blessing before he died”.  
“Now you mention it, he did!” Marius told Valjean.  
“There you go then. Monsieur Enjolras is forgiven, and you need to get your wedding sorted young man! While you have been fighting, Cosette and I have been busy. I hope you are not busy for the next couple of months!”  
“That depends father” Marius replied. “If Enjolras asks me to stand for election in Parliament, I will not be available for the next couple of weeks!”  
“Good job the bride’s family does most of the work then!” laughed Valjean. Cosette stirred at the sound of her father’s laughter, and found herself in Marius’ arms. “Cosette,” Marius asked her gently, “Would you mind awfully if your husband went into politics?”  
“Not at all, Monsieur. I am only a weak woman, and would not want to interfere with your career,” she said demurely. Marius then kissed her gently before sitting her down in a chair. Valjean pointed to the little desk in the corner. Marius sat down, pulled a sheet of paper towards him, loaded up a pen with red ink and wrote a quick note to Enjolras.

Enjolras  
I am standing for the election with permission of my wife to be and my father, M. Fauchelevant. I will be proud to stand for the party Les Amis de ABC, and for you, Enjolras.  
See you at the meeting tomorrow!  
Baron M. Pontmercy

He signed his name in black, as Les Amis had always done on notes to each other. Marius scattered sand on the wet ink to dry it, before heating the wax ready in the holder, and folded the note before dropping the melted wax onto the join and using his ring to impress MP on the wax before it dried. This done, he asked Valjean if he had a messenger boy at all. Valjean rang the bell again, a different rhythm to the one he used to call Toussaint. A moment later, a smartly dressed man appeared in the doorway. “Yes, sir?” he asked. Marius handed him the note, saying, “Take this to the cafe Musain, leave it with the landlady. She’ll know what to do with it. If she asks, say it is for ABC. She’ll understand.”  
“Sir” the man said, before bowing to Valjean and Marius. As soon as he had gone, Marius let his gaze wander over to his beloved. She blushed prettily under his gaze, wondering what he was going to propose next. He pulled a ring out of his pocket. “Mademoiselle Cosette Fauchelevant, due to the previous troubles, I was unable to get you a token of my affection for you. However, a couple of days late, may I ask you to accept this ring to celebrate our engagement?” he asked on bended knee, before she wordlessly put her hand in his and allowed him to slip the silver and amber ring onto her finger. Marius was impressed with the craftsmanship as it slid onto her small hand. Feuilly had made it for him that afternoon quickly, after the meeting at the Musain. He would take no payment, grinning to Marius “If I had died over the past couple of days, this would have been stolen. Take this as my thanks for fighting along side me, Monsieur le Baron. I will be happy to make wedding rings as well for you. Don’t tell Enjolras, but I am making him a new ring too. He needs a recognisable seal for all the official documents he’ll have to authorise!” Marius had joined in Feuilly’s laughter, thanking him again. “Marius...I don’t know what to say!” she breathed, before turning round and showing the ring joyfully to her papa. “It is beautiful, Cosette.” Valjean said softly to her. “Now, Monsieur le Baron, let us detain you a little longer for dinner, and Cosette can tell you, as she has been dying to, about her wedding plans for you!” With this, Marius gratefully accepted, and took his betrothed’s arm as a bell rang and he followed her father into the dining room.


	14. Two Men, One Heart

Grantaire snuck back in to Enjolras’ house, his arms full. He peaked into the living room and saw Enjolras lying exactly where he’d left him. Grantaire looked around, noticing the glasses had gone. He smiled. That was just like Enjolras. He quickly padded upstairs to the bedroom before dropping off his bundle and returning with a couple of lengths of rope hidden in his jacket. He immediately dropped to the floor and looked into Enjolras’ eyes. They were shut, and he appeared to be sleeping, but the position of his arms and legs suggested otherwise. Grantaire chuckled darkly and softly bought Enjolras’ legs together and bound his feet. Enjolras did nothing on the surface, but he was far from asleep. He saw Grantaire sneak back in with his bundle and was expecting something like this. He deserved it too, after the way he’d spoken about him with Marius earlier. Enjolras grinned to himself. ‘Wait a little longer’ he thought. ‘Wait until we’re upstairs, then surprise him’. He felt himself being rolled onto his back before his hands were brought before him and bound together. He decided to feign awakening then, to unnerve Grantaire. He opened his eyes a fraction. Grantaire was sitting there, licking his lips and inspecting Enjolras’ bound form. Enjolras decided it was time to allow Grantaire his fun. He moaned and tried to stretch, like a person would just waking up. He felt his bound limbs trying to move, but Grantaire had done his job well. “Am I captured?” he mumbled. “Did I just dream about the victory?” Here, Grantaire caught on his meaning, and grabbed the keys left on the table and walked up and down, jangling them like a guard would on a prison corridor. “Where am I?” he asked, attempting to open his eyes. Grantaire stood and scowled down at his prisoner. “You’re mine,” Grantaire whispered. “Liberty is not favouring you, is it, rebel leader? Did you think that your pretty words made everyone follow you? They’re all dead, and you will be too, after a hearing, where the King will make sure you’re found Guilty!” Here, Enjolras squirmed in his bonds, saying “Too far, Grantaire. Too far”. Grantaire immediately dropped the act. Enjolras explained: “I kept hearing those words in my head. What would happen if we were defeated. We would all be killed, but it would be me they’d make an example of. I would have been executed! I would have broken and turned into a weak boy, the marble would have cracked. I couldn’t go through with that if there was one person left to carry on my dream.” Enjolras let out a dry sob, reliving his previous terrors had scared him, just like they had on the barricade. Grantaire put a friendly hand on his shoulder, before Enjolras calmed down and nodded at Grantaire to continue. Grantaire stood up slowly, his eyes raking Enjolras’ body. He crouched back down and started to take off his waistcoat, which had somehow survived the battle with no blemishes apart from a think layer of dirt. He realised that he had to unbind Enjolras’ hands to free him of his clothing. Grumbling slightly, Grantaire unbound Enjolras’ hands, before sitting on one hand so he couldn’t escape. He then went back to stripping him. When his shirt and waistcoat lay in a heap on the floor, Grantaire bound Enjolras’ hands again, before running kisses all down his body. Enjolras struggled against his captor, teasing Grantaire with his resistance. Grantaire picked him up in his strong arms like he was little more than a woman and carried him up to the bedroom. Here he lay Enjolras’ bound form on the bed, before forcing his hands above his head and securing them to the head of the bed. He then unbound Enjolras’ legs to remove his breeches and the tricolour. Grantaire smirked to himself as Enjolras struggled even more, before Grantaire pulled off his own clothes and teased the bound man in front of him. Grantaire climbed onto the bed next to Enjolras and started kissing him with such passion that Enjolras gasped. In that brief moment, Grantaire slammed his mouth down upon Enjolras’ and teased him in all places he could reach. He reached for the bottle of oil he kept in a draw and started to make himself oily. He was quickly finished, and, with a gasp of pain from the bound man, started to move slowly into him, before getting faster and faster. Enjolras stopped crying out as the skill of the man before him took his breath away. He didn’t mind his loss of liberty, it was a just reward for taking the life of a man that day, who had done no wrong and had been lead astray by Enjolras’ own father. Grantaire shuddered and removed himself. A couple of seconds later, Enjolras shivered and fell into a deep sleep. He was unaware of Grantaire unbinding his hands and dressing him in a clean nightshirt, before Grantaire himself did the same, kissing Enjolras’ brow and falling asleep next to the man he loved.


	15. A Night of Lovers

“I beg your pardon, Cosette,” said Marius gently, as he interrupted a discussion on the food to be served at their wedding reception. “I did not get much rest last night due to circumstances being what they were, and I need some rest. Please forgive me, but I must retire soon.”  
“No, I beg your pardon Marius! How selfish I am to detain you, when you have been fighting for liberty for us! Please, forgive me?” Cosette asked, ashamed.  
“Do not be ashamed, Mademoiselle, for I am as excited about this as you are.” Marius stood up and gently kissed Cosette on the cheek, before bowing to her and making his way up to the guest room Valjean had given him. A few moments later, he was fast asleep. Cosette snuck upstairs to his room and peeped in through the door. Marius looked so adorable in his sleep as he unwound from the stresses of the past few days. She smiled, and bustled towards her room, where she opened her wardrobe and saw the dress fabric hanging over the door. She was making it herself. She lovingly felt the soft white silk and looked at the pattern. The dress was nothing more than lots of scraps of silk now, but she knew it would be a dress to make Marius proud. ‘We must send the invitations tomorrow’ she thought, before running her hand down the silk again and turned to her bed, quickly removing her many layers of dress, shifts and corsets, before slipping into the same nightgown she’d had since her time in the convent. A moment later, she, like Marius, was fast asleep. Valjean saw the candles blown out in the main house as he paced around his apartment in the grounds. He smiled to himself. Cosette would do just fine. He moved heavily into his apartment, said his prayers before the wooden cross he had been given for his birthday by the sisters in the convent and fell into a deep sleep.

The next morning, Valjean awoke to see a light on in Cosette’s room. Knowing the child like he did, he was sure she was working on her wedding dress. He was so proud of her for marrying a hero whom she loved, not just because of his title or the fact he may become a great man in parliament. He regretted trying to move away, as Cosette would have been devastated, and so would the young Baron. Valjean left his apartment and wandered over to the main house. He walked slowly up the stairs to Cosette’s room, where she sat with her little sewing machine sewing the skirt of her dress. “Good morning papa” she said enthusiastically. “Marius is still asleep, so I thought I’d make the most use of the time and carry on making my dress without him seeing.”  
“It is a good morning indeed, Cosette. But you are forgetting the time. Breakfast is ready in a quarter, and Marius needs to be up for that!”  
“My apologies, papa” she said, before finishing the seam on the dress and folding its large skirts back up.  
“I will see you momentarily, my dear child.” Valjean told her as he left the room. Cosette stood as he went and quickly checked her appearance in the mirror on her vanity. Satisfied she looked presentable, she moved softly across the corridor to Marius’ room. She knocked softly, and hearing no reply, she opened the door and peeped in. Marius was fast asleep still! ‘That will not do!’ Cosette thought to herself. She stepped into the room and crept over to the bed. Marius looked so adorable to Cosette’s love-struck eyes that she didn’t want to wake him. She shook her head at her weakness. Jean wanted her to wake Marius up, so she leant over the bed and brushed his hair out of his eyes before giving him a gentle kiss on his brow. Marius opened his eyes slowly, wondering where he was. His head turned towards the vision of angels that shadowed him. “Bonjour monsieur!” Cosette said breezily. Marius looked at her with love in his eyes. He brought his lips up to hers and they shared a gentle kiss, a quick touch of lip on lip. “Papa wants you downstairs in ten, monsieur. He will be awfully vexed with us both if we are not there on time!” This startled Marius into action. He had no plans to displease his future father in law on such a trivial matter. He leapt off the bed and opened the wardrobe to find new cloths hanging there. He looked at Cosette curiously, and she added, “Papa and I decided to by you a few things when we went looking for bridal fabrics. I hope they are suitable. Your old clothes are being cleaned, and we can send a footman to your house to bring the rest of them back.”  
“Thank you, and thank your father too, Cosette!” Marius exclaimed happily. He had not had a new suit of cloths since he came to study at the university. She blushed and quickly made his bed while he quickly washed and struggled into his new clothes. The trousers were so like Enjolras’, he couldn’t help but grin when he saw Enjolras’ style through his wardrobe. ‘Fauchelevant must have a sense of humour then’ Marius grinned as he put on the black trousers, white shirt and black tie he found. He found a gold waistcoat (more to his style) and then a short black jacket. When he put them on, he caught sight of Cosette blushing again. “What?” he asked her, not rudely, but just a little annoyed that she found him embarrassing.  
“Sorry my love!” she said, “but it was papa’s idea to find you clothes like your leaders. I never thought how much better they’d look on you!”  
“My darling!” Marius exclaimed happily. “But Enjolras won’t be pleased when he sees.”  
“I don’t know,” replied she. “He may even be grateful that one of his party members wants to dress like him. But come, we must go down.” Marius followed her out of his room and down to the dining room. When they arrived a couple of minutes later, Marius was surprised to see a note by his plate. Valjean said, “This was brought round last night by the same student I met a few days ago. I take it it is a reply?”  
“I think it must be, father,” Marius agreed, noting the elegant script in red ink on the envelope. He sat and Cosette said grace, before Toussaint appeared and served them tea and toast. Marius opened the envelope when she had finished and read the page with a smile. “Monsieur,” he asked Valjean, “Please may I take Cosette out for a little stroll this morning? I promise I will look after her.”  
“She is your wife to be, my son. I am confident about leaving her in your hands” Valjean smiled. “Monsieur, you may come too if you wish. I will only be able to ensure you are in the main hall, but I cannot guarantee you a space with your daughter. Enjolras has accepted my application and has asked me to meet him at nine thirty to run through our campaign.”  
“I already know who I am going to vote for” Jean laughed. “I want liberty, and am sure Enjolras can deliver, especially with friends like you! But please, take Cosette. I’m sure she will find it most interesting.”  
“And my love,” Marius then asked her, “Would you mind if they came to our wedding?”  
“Of course not monsieur!” she gasped. “They are your friends and may soon become some of the highest people in the land! I will be honoured to share our day with them. Here, I have some invitations in the study.” Marius had now finished his breakfast and stood to move to the study and write the invitations to his friends. Cosette looked at her father, and smiled. She was perfectly happy to see Marius inviting his friends, and hated the fact that he seemed to think he had to ask permission for every little thing he did for the wedding. She sighed and quickly finished her breakfast before going to prepare herself for her walk.


	16. A Morning

Enjolras woke up next to Grantaire early the next morning. He saw a note slipped under his door. He leapt up and grabbed it, noting Marius’ seal on the join. He opened it and smiled at the message he saw it enclosed. He quickly went to his desk and grabbed a fresh piece of paper, loading up his pen with red ink and writing:

Marius,  
How happy you make me! I expect you at the Palace by nine thirty. Feel free to bring along your fiancée, but I cannot guarantee a place for her father, even though he has the same right as any of us to stand, being a fighter himself. Never mind, I will see you at nine thirty. I look forward to meeting your fiancée properly.  
Enjolras

Enjolras quickly ran to get his coat and slipped out of the house, not wanting to wake Grantaire. He jogged along the silent streets until he reached the Rue Plummet. He went and knocked on the door, which was opened by Valjean. “Bonjour again Monsieur Fauchelevant” Enjolras said to him, bowing respectively. “Would you be kind enough to give this to Monsieur le Baron?”  
“I will indeed, Enjolras” Jean replied. “It was not your fault, you know. Louis-Philippe was destined to die in this revolution, as is one more death. But this death may touch you more than you think.”  
“What do you mean Monsieur?” Enjolras asked, suddenly suspicious.   
“My apologies Enjolras,” Valjean replied. “I must have dozed off for a moment. I assure you, I will give the Baron your message at breakfast.”  
“Thank you Monsieur” Enjolras inclined his neck in a stiff bow, mirrored by Valjean, before he walked quickly back home. He let himself in and crept back up to the bedroom. Grantaire was still fast asleep. Enjolras decided to go for his wash and get himself ready for the debate while Grantaire slumbered on. He thought about what Fauchelevant had said. There would have to be one more death, his father. Enjolras groaned. His father would cause trouble and he was expecting it today. He looked at his reflection in his mirror, taking in the wonder of his dark hair and eyes against his pale skin. He looked different to every other Frenchman, the way he held his head, his aloof manner, and his ignorance of girls. Yes, he was God-like, as Grantaire kept calling him. Apollo. Enjolras smiled at the nickname. He would not let them down. The people wanted a leader. ‘I’m not ready for this’ he said to himself. He immediately chastised himself for his lack of self-belief, in both himself and his friends. Marius was standing for election, as was Combeferre and Courfeyrac. His friends would be beside him all the way. He glanced at the clock on the wall behind him. It was eight AM. Smiling, he went back into the bedroom to get his clothes. He decided on his customary black and white suit. Dressing quickly, he went back downstairs, leaving Grantaire to slumber for a few more minutes. He gathered a couple of plates and cut four slices of bread. He lit the fire and toasted the bread in a few minutes. He gathered them up and covered the slices with some butter he found in the back of the fridge, before topping with ham and carrying it up to the bedroom. “Morning love,” he called into Grantaire breezily. “Breakfast’s ready!” Grantaire snorted and rolled over. “S’not. Leave me be.” He groaned. Enjolras was having none of that. He pulled the covers off Grantaire’s body and reached down to stroke his legs. He kissed him on the nose and bit it. “Wake up! It’s the day of the debate and I need your support!” Grantaire leaped up at those words. He would not dream of letting Enjolras down. He grunted his thanks as Enjolras passed him his ham toasty. “Did you enjoy last night?” Grantaire asked Enjolras coyly. Enjolras laughed and replied, “Yes, I did. I quite enjoyed having my liberty removed. It made my night interesting to say the least.” Grantaire smirked. He had seen this with the amount of seed Enjolras had given out that night. Grantaire munched his breakfast in silence for a moment while Enjolras devoured his. “You know, Enjolras,” Grantaire began, “If you do get elected, we won’t be able to meet up like this, will we? People will be watching your every move. I don’t think I could stand it! Seeing you and not being with you.”  
“Hush, Grantaire, hush. It’s all right, I won’t be leaving you! One of my aims of the new republic is freedom of expression. Everyone has the right to be who they want, what they want. Les Amis will accept you, everyone will accept you. This is a new generation, a new time. My God, Grantaire, I am the leader and they respect me!”  
“They only respect your coldness. You have not shown them your human side.” Grantaire argued back.  
“No. Not when we have succeeded!” Enjolras cried desperately. “I thought I was me in meetings, I thought I’d left the cold marble image behind when I first slept with you!”  
“You didn’t give them time to adjust” Grantaire said harshly, “They still think you are the marble Apollo, incapable of feeling.”  
“We must show them then. Les Amis only for now. Come, eat up. Marius and his girl are meeting us at the palace before the debate. I will then see who my competition is. I have only had one competitor for leader, and his name is Julian Enjolras.”  
“Your father?” Grantaire gasped. “B-but, won’t he stand against the republic’s views, your views?”  
“Yes, he will.” Enjolras stated with a small tremor in his voice. “He was the one responsible for the decisions made by the man we executed yesterday. I need Marius, as a qualified lawyer, to help me find a way to trap my father to imprison him. I need to get him to confess to something. I know what. You see, when I first left my home after being thrown out because of my views, father took it out on my mother. She agreed with my views, as much as he tried to dissuade her. She refused to agree with him, so he beat her, often. I received a few letters from her, each one describing what my father had done to her. Then one day I had a knock on my door. My father was there, carrying my mother’s body. ‘Here’ he said to me. ‘Take her. She loved you, and died for your precious cause,’ before dumping her body in my arms and spat on her and me. As soon as I had slammed the door in his face, I placed my mother on the bed. God, Grantaire, she was in a bad way. She had been beaten to within an inch of her life. I saw marks on her neck, and then knew that my father had strangled her. I tended to her, made her respectable. I found a nice nightgown in the shops, and dressed her in that, before writing to Combeferre. Together we stole a coffin and buried her in my garden. She was the first casualty of the republic. I can never forgive my father for murdering my mother.”  
“Enjolras, my love...I don’t know what to say,” Grantaire began, before Enjolras held his hand up to Grantaire’s lips to stop any more words. Grantaire sighed and kissed his hand. “Come, we must go,” Enjolras said. He made sure that no trace of emotion showed in his face before straightening his jacket. Grantaire quickly threw on his discarded clothes of the previous nights bundle while Enjolras was making sure he was presentable. He grinned and took Enjolras’ hand before leaving the house and locking the door for a short walk to the palace.


	17. The Debate

Enjolras quickly located Marius in the crowd that was starting to form around the palace gates. When Enjolras appeared, the people let out a great shout, and respectfully moved aside so Les Amis could get through. Marius smiled at the frail brunette on his arm. “Monsieurs,” Marius began, “Please may I have the honour of presenting my fiancée, Cosette Fauchelevant. We have something for you, if you would accept them.” Here, Cosette drew several fine envelopes from her bag, all addressed to the students by name in Marius’ fair hand. They all took theirs, and opened them. This is what it said:

Monsieur Ultime Fauchelevant invites  
Marcelin Enjolras  
To the wedding between Mademoiselle Cosette Fauchelevant and Monsieur le Baron Marius Pontmercy on the 11th Day of July 1832 at 11 o Clock in La Cathedral d’ Notre Dame. RSVP to 55 Rue Plummet.

“Well” Enjolras laughed, “How can we refuse such a nice invitation as this? Of course, Les Amis all accept, right, friends?” This was met by nodding heads in all directions. “Enjolras,” Joly pointed out, “Haven’t we got an election debate to fight?”  
“You are right, of course, Joly. We will have the ministers’ election speeches first and the leaders last. Marius, would I be able to borrow your lawyer expertise for a little while?”  
“Of course, fearless leader. My knowledge is yours.”  
“Good, come with me. Mademoiselle Fauchelevant, would you care to join us?”  
“Yes please monsieur. Marius promised Papa that he would look after me. And please, call me Cosette. Any friend of my fiancée is my friend.”  
“Very well Cosette. Please, follow me, both of you”  
Cosette smiled and linked her arm through Marius’, before following Enjolras through the crowds, who parted in respect. Enjolras swept up the marble steps of the palace, Cosette and Marius following, her skirts rustling pleasantly. The rest of Les Amis followed them. Grantaire and Jean Prouvaire opened the gates and doors wider to allow the public into the throne room, where a table had been set up for the speeches. They all crowded in, chattering excitedly. At precisely eleven o clock, Enjolras stepped up to the table and began speaking. “Citizens!” he began, fire in his deep eyes, doing what he loved best, “A great battle was fought for you a mere few days ago. I now stand here to ask you to elect a new government for the people. I have several people wishing to speak to you, all hoping to be elected. Half of them are a member of Les Amis de ABC, the other half follow Julian Enjolras, my father, advisor to the late king.” The crowed murmured in surprise. They thought that this would be easy, Les Amis the only ones who would talk. “Citizens,” Enjolras began again, “I wish to start with the ministers’ election speeches. Without further ado, may I ask Feuilly to step forward and talk to you?” Here, Enjolras stepped down and Feuilly took his place. “Friends and citizens!” he began. Enjolras pulled Marius away. “Marius,” he said quietly when they were in an adjoining room, “My father is also standing for election. He will try to lie and support the people, but discredit me. We need a way to trap him for the murderer and wife beater he is. My mother supported my cause, and father didn’t like it. You see, when I first left my home after being thrown out because of my views, father took it out on my mother. She agreed with my views, as much as he tried to dissuade her. She refused to agree with him, so he beat her, often. I received a few letters from her, each one describing what my father had done to her. Then one day I had a knock on my door. My father was there, carrying my mother’s body. ‘Here’ he said to me. ‘Take her. She loved you, and died for your precious cause,’ before dumping her body in my arms and spat on her and me. As soon as I had slammed the door in his face, I placed my mother on the bed. God, Marius, as I said to Grantaire earlier, she was in a bad way. She had been beaten to within an inch of her life. I saw marks on her neck, and then knew that my father had strangled her. I tended to her, made her respectable. I found a nice nightgown in the shops, and dressed her in that, before writing to Combeferre. Together we stole a coffin and buried her in my garden. She was the first casualty of the republic. I can never forgive my father for that. You see why I need a lawyer’s help. I can’t do this alone. I need someone to support me.”  
“Wait a second, please Enjolras. Did you say that you told Grantaire about this?” Marius asked, shocked.  
“Oh, I shouldn’t have said that!” Enjolras groaned. “You’d better hear it from me then. Grantaire and I are lovers. He, he brought out my human side, I couldn’t be a statue for him. He loves me too, Marius. I don’t regret anything I’ve done.”  
“Enjolras, calm down!” Marius told him franticly. “To be honest I had noticed something was up, Grantaire was not being so cynical about our plans, and you were even harsher on him than normal that morning at the barricades. Don’t worry, no one else has noticed. I just know you so well.”  
“Please Marius, don’t say anything.”  
“I won’t. Don’t worry, Enjolras, Marcelin Enjolras.” Marius soothed.  
“Can we get back to business please?” Enjolras quickly transformed into the marble statue he was known to be, cold and efficient. “I need to be able to frame my father, and find him guilty. You know what that means I must do.”  
“I do, Enjolras. It will not be pleasant, but he is a murderer, and deserves to be treated as such.” Enjolras kneaded his forehead with his knuckles. “But this is going to be impossible! One of my policies is to outlaw the guillotine! It is a hideous punishment! What am I to do?”  
“Enjolras, listen to me. We can explain the situation. Also, do you have someone you can trust? A girl, I mean.” Enjolras realised what Marius was thinking.  
“Eponine?” he asked. Marius smiled and nodded.   
“She adores me for some reason; she will do anything for me. Her father beats her regularly, I have seen the bruises.”  
“Eponine can be a new victim of my father’s. She can claim that he did this to her, and then I can tell my story to the people. Go and get her Marius, I now know what I need to do.” Marius bowed his head, astonished at the strength his leader radiated. He left the room immediately to do Enjolras’ bidding. He bumped into Eponine by the front door of the palace. He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her into another room. “‘Ponine,” he asked, “Would you do something for me?”  
“Anything, Monsieur Marius, for you.” She said her voice husky from the beatings her father often laid on her chest.  
“‘Ponine, I need you to pretend to be a new victim of Julian Enjolras, Marcelin’s father.”  
“I needn’t pretend” she scoffed. “He came up to me weeks ago and wouldn’t leave me alone. I thought my father was bad until I met Monsieur Enjolras Senior. My life has been hell recently, he’s been following me everywhere, his hand always up my skirt or on my chest or...” Eponine broke off, sobbing quietly into Marius’ jacket. He stroked her hair softly. “I promise, Eponine Thénardier, that I will protect you, along with my beloved. I must ask you to face him one more time, and tell the people what he did to you. Enjolras, Les Amis and I will all be here to support you. He beat and murdered his own wife when she preferred Enjolras’ beliefs to his, and then poisoned the former King against our cause, meaning he never listened to the people, he only listened to Julian Enjolras. Will you help us?” Eponine looked into his eyes. “For Enjolras, for you, I will” she said. “Good! Come with me, and Enjolras will tell you what you need to do.” Marius grasped her hand gently and led her back to the room Enjolras had been preparing himself in. “Enjolras!” Eponine gasped when she saw him. Marius also did a double take. In the few minutes he had been with Eponine, Enjolras had changed into a man perfect for leading France. There was a look in his dark eyes that was unmistakable as a passion for his cause, a passion so intense it was almost frightening. Enjolras looked around at Eponine’s exclamation. His face relaxed into a smile. “Mademoiselle Eponine, I hope you are alright with this. I wouldn’t normally ask people to lie, but this is a special case.”  
“But I will not be lying Monsieur Enjolras. He has been following me, beating me and raping me, just because I am friends with Monsieur Marius, one of your friends.”  
“I am sorry, ‘Ponine” Enjolras said sadly. “I never knew that my father would want to get my friends as well as me. And to use a woman, even one as strong and independent as you, just shows what a monster he is. Please listen; this is what I will do. I will start my speech after my father gives his, and I will talk about the rights of citizens to be free from harassment. I then want you to come charging in and come to me, crying if you can. I will ask you what is wrong. Would you be able to explain everything, even though most of Paris is in there?”  
“I will Enjolras.” She said.  
“I will then ask the people to bear that in mind when casting their votes, and then tell my story. Marius, I need you and the other Amis to block off the door so father cannot escape until I have told my story and dismissed the people. Let father out then. The people will want justice. I will let them vote before dealing justice. If the votes go as I think they will, I will put an arrest warrant out for my father. Rather than having to execute him, I want someone to take the guise of a soldier and kill my father, making it look like a struggle when he’s being arrested. I will let the soldier off, but they must never know of the true contract.”  
“One of Les Amis should do it, Enjolras. This would be too important to leave in the hands of a common soldier. We know Les Amis will keep it secret.”  
“Best not ask Grantaire then!” laughed Enjolras. A knock sounded on the outer door. Courfeyrac poked his head around the door. “Marius, it is time for your speech. Enjolras, it is best if you come out too. There is someone here” he said with a grimace. Enjolras nodded in acknowledgement. Courfeyrac closed the door. Enjolras squeezed Eponine’s hand, grateful that she had agreed to do this. She squeezed his back before running out the door to prepare for her grand entrance. Marius and Enjolras stepped out into the throne room. One of Julian’s men was just finishing his speech. No cheers greeted the end of this speech, only some polite applause. Obviously, it had not been popular with the crowds. He stepped down frowning at his less than warm applause, and Marius, on a small push from Enjolras, stepped up to the table. He saw Cosette standing next to Joly. She gave him an encouraging smile. Marius began speaking. “Citizens and friends” he began. “We stand here in a new age. I do not have much more to add to what my previous comrades from Les Amis have said. I will only offer to treat all of the people with respect, listen to their worries and concerns, acting on them like a true leader should. I cannot promise that I will be perfect,” here, there was a few titters from the crowd. Cosette also laughed softly, “but I will try to be fair and support Les Amis in everything. I would now like to pass over to our fine opposition leader, Julian Enjolras. Heed his words, before his son follows him to speak for Les Amis, and why he wants to lead you!” Cheers followed Marius’ speech. He stepped down and Julian Enjolras took his place. Marcelin had his looks from his mother, that much was certain. Julian was blond and sickly looking. He looked like a puff of wind could floor him. He didn’t look like the man who could molest and beat women, and even his own son. He was small, and even when standing tall on the table, the people at the back of the room had to crane their necks to see the father of their saviour. “Loyal Subjects” he began. “I come to you today to urge you to vote me into parliament rather than my son, who hides behind people weaker than him to make himself stronger. He clings to dreams; he will never listen to any other reason no matter who it comes from. People, do you really want a dreamer to lead you into ruin? I had the ear of the late King he so wrongly executed. I will see his head on a pole for that traitorous act. There is no blood between us; he is not an Enjolras, not a true subject to the King and Country. He gives you dreams but doesn’t act on them. He would lead this country to ruin. However, I will make sure that there is no radical change; the system will stay the same. We will have a monarch, but one who listens to the demands of the people. I would fill this, subjects. Remember when the traitor starts to speak; he will lead you on a dream that will only end badly for you. Vote for consistency!” Julian stepped down to polite applause, no big cheers. Grantaire pushed Enjolras forward. “Good luck, Apollo,” he grunted, wanting to kiss him but not daring to. Cosette looked at Marius, who nodded his permission. She went and kissed Enjolras on the cheek. “From Grantaire,” she whispered. Enjolras nodded his thanks to Les Amis, who all stood anxiously as Enjolras took to the table to cheers. “Citizens and friends!” he began, the passion shining through every cell in his body, Cosette’s kiss for Grantaire on his cheek. “I stand here today to ask you to vote Les Amis to run the country alongside you. I will run this country for the people; Les Amis will stand by every decision. Policies I intend to bring forward include abolishing the death penalty. The guillotine is an evil, inhumane instrument. Who are we, mere mortals, to decide who lives and who dies?” Enjolras nodded his head slightly. Les Amis slowly drifted off to secure the doors so Julian couldn’t escape. “Les Amis will also push for freedom for citizens, to be who they want, what they want and free from harassment.” The doors were suddenly flung open and a dishevelled young woman pushed her way to the front, crying. “Monsieur!” she screamed, flinging herself at Enjolras’ feet. “I come here with an accusation! Against Julian Enjolras!” The guards started moving towards Enjolras and Eponine, to drag her away. Enjolras shook his head slightly. “No. Let her speak. I want to hear what she has to say against my father. Come now, Mademoiselle. Please, tell me what the matter is.”  
“Julian Enjolras” sobbed Eponine, “is a common harasser. He thinks all women are there for his use. I am sure I am not the first woman he has groped and manhandled. I have bruises all over from his treatment of me, and something was taken that cannot be replaced. You see the marks on my neck, Monsieur; this is where he tried to strangle me just last night when he’d satisfied his lust!” Julian had not been idle. As soon as Eponine started talking, he recognised her. He knew he would never be elected with this. Enjolras would have to do the best he could. He tried to flee as Eponine was talking. Enjolras looked up from the woman at his feet, his eyes cold. “Seize that man! Don’t let him escape!” Joly was the first to react. He grabbed Julian’s arm as he ran past. Prouvaire came to his aid. Together they subdued the man and dragged him to face Enjolras. Eponine shrank away in real terror as Julian was brought closer to her. Enjolras grasped her hand and moved her behind him. He felt Cosette come forward and take Eponine back to her and Marius, speaking softly. “Julian Enjolras,” Enjolras began, “You have been accused of harassing this young woman against the ideas of the new world. I would also like to accuse you of murder. Citizens, this man before you killed his wife, my mother. She suffered abuse at his hands because she believed in my ideas; she wouldn’t conform to his views and ideologies. I cannot issue an arrest warrant at present, but if you elect me, I will be able to protect the most vulnerable in society, namely the women and children, along with the men and women who fight each day to just survive. Don’t vote for me, vote for yourselves. I thank you for coming this day, and remember; voting is here tomorrow from eight o clock until noon. I promise you, that by tomorrow evening, you will have a new government. Let Julian Enjolras go, but keep an eye on him. Joly and Prouvaire please accompany him home and bring him here tomorrow morning. Make sure he doesn’t escape. Stay with him if you must. Thank you for your time, citizens.” Enjolras stepped down from the table. Joly and Prouvaire pulled Julian up and marched him back home. Julian was met with hisses and curses from each side, but due to a couple of members of Les Amis being with him, they didn’t do anything worse. They led him to his home, before leading him into his study. Joly nodded to Prouvaire, who left him guarding Julian while he found some food. It was going to be a long night for both of them.


	18. The Aftermath

Back at the palace, Enjolras was surrounded by Les Amis, Cosette and Eponine. “Eponine, you were amazing!” Enjolras told her. “Even I was surprised about how much emotion you’d put into that.”  
“I didn’t need to act, Monsieur le President. Montparnasse, one of my father’s gang, was outside. He’s always happy to beat me for nothing, which he did. I asked him to so I could cry.”  
“You are so brave, ‘Ponine” Cosette said. “I think it is time for you to know. I was the girl in the inn, your servant. I always respected your bravery, and I feel for you.”  
“Cosette,” Eponine said curiously, “Cosette? Are you sure? I mean, you were so, um,”  
“Say what you must ‘Ponine. Marius will understand, as will Enjolras”  
“You were so awkward and ugly. I didn’t think you could turn into such a beauty.” Cosette blushed, before motioning for Marius to calm down. “Well, you’ve not turned out too bad yourself, ‘Ponine.” Marius said, before glancing at Cosette, who just smiled sweetly at him. “Come my friends,” Enjolras said. “Let us part for the rest of the day. I want us to meet at my house tomorrow after the election results, regardless of the outcome.”  
“As you wish, Monsieur le President.” Marius said, bowing. Cosette and Eponine curtsied, before the rest of Les Amis fell into a respectful bow. Enjolras blushed and looked away, embarrassed. “Oh, stand up you flatterers!” Enjolras chided between chuckles. “If I do get president, I assure you, I don’t want my equals to be forever bowing and scraping to me. Get out of here! Marius, we all accept. We’ll be there. Now go, I can see Cosette is eager to drag you away to carry on planning! Combeferre, you look like you need a drink, Feuilly, you look like you need to be somewhere doing something, Courfeyrac, just go with Combeferre. Grantaire... what am I to do with you? Gavroche, go with Lesgles and help him out.”  
“He’s been good so far!” Lesgles chuckled. “Anyone would think he’d been born a gentleman!”  
“Gentleman pfft.” Laughed Gavroche. “I’m only good so he lets me out with him! Anyway, Enjolras, I hope you make decent schools. I can’t wait to get out of the one Lesgles sends me to!”  
“I home school him” admitted Lesgles. “None of the local schools are good enough for my boy. I enjoy his company and I can teach him a few things.”  
“Go away with you both! You’re both as bad as each other!” Enjolras laughed. “Remember; be here bright and early tomorrow to oversee the votes.” Enjolras, still chortling, shook hands with his friends as they left and kissed Cosette’s hand as she curtsied to him. Grantaire was the last to go, following Eponine. He looked back at Enjolras, enquiring if he should wait for him. Enjolras shook his head. He had so many bits of paper to prepare and boxes to secure. He wouldn’t be back for a while. Grantaire left, and ran into Feuilly. “Grantaire! Just who I wanted to see!” Feuilly exclaimed in a quiet whisper. “What do you want Feuilly?” Grantaire asked him.  
“Come with me” giggled Feuilly. Grantaire followed him curiously. They didn’t go far, only to Feuilly’s home. Grantaire looked around. He had never been here before. He saw silks for Feuilly’s fan making, and a safe by another door. “This is my secret hobby” explained Feuilly. Grantaire was confused, until Feuilly opened the safe and pulled out several small boxes. He handed them to Grantaire, who placed them on the table. Feuilly locked the safe again, before going over to the boxes he had handed Grantaire. Opening the first one, he showed Grantaire two gold bands, one slimmer than the other. “This is for Cosette’s and Marius’ wedding,” he explained to a shocked Grantaire. Never before had it occurred to him that Feuilly had any other hobbies apart from painting his silks for his fans. Closing the box, Feuilly opened another. “This one is for Enjolras. I made it for you to give to him. Marius told me that you worshiped him. A small token from a follower to his Apollo” winked Feuilly. He handed it to Grantaire. “I don’t want payment. I make enough from my fans and the jewellery I sell. Besides, what good is an artisan if he can’t show his work off to his friends once in a while? I even made Cosette’s engagement ring for Marius. But,” and here, Feuilly paused before looking Grantaire in the eyes. “I have a special ring, which you mustn’t tell Enjolras about.”  
“Show me, please Feuilly. I have looked at the Apollo ring you have given me, and can see it being perfect for Enjolras, with it’s gold band and dark stone. He’ll like it.” Grantaire told Feuilly, almost frustrated at the man’s patter. Feuilly slowly opened the box. Grantaire couldn’t help himself. He gasped. Inside was a solid gold ring with a flattened head. In the head was a monogram ME, with ABC below it. The head was surrounded by a gold pattern, so elegantly cut out that Grantaire couldn’t believe how much work Feuilly had put in. It was so detailed. He also saw the word ‘Liberty’ picked out in the surrounding frill, before moulding into a simple band, with the inscription ‘Enjolras, Les Amis de ABC’ on the underside. Grantaire could only gape. “This is...”  
“Correct. A coronation ring. Fitting for the new French leader, don’t you think?” asked Feuilly with a cheeky grin. “I want someone to give it to him on his coronation. Do you think you could do it?”  
“Why me, Feuilly? God knows I was not the biggest supporter of Les Amis and our cause. Why not get Courfeyrac, his right hand man, to give him the ring?”  
“Well, I thought you may appreciate it more.”  
“No! The ring you have given me is enough. I don’t want him to think I think he needs material things! It is beautiful though. You should give it him yourself.”  
“Thank you, Grantaire” breathed Feuilly, moving in to kiss him. Grantaire pulled back.   
“No, Feuilly. I am grateful for the ring, and thankful that you saw fit for me to give it to him, but I want you to give it to him. It’s your work after all. See you tomorrow!” And Grantaire all but fled out of Feuilly’s house, with his Apollo ring tucked safely in his jacket. He stumbled to his old home, looking around. He opened his wardrobe and grabbed his few remaining clothes. He looked around, making sure he had everything. Enjolras had helped him move most of his stuff the previous week, but there were a few items left. Grantaire had got most of them the previous night after Enjolras had fallen asleep. Opening the chest, his only other item of personal furniture that he owned, he saw all of his notes from his classes. Looking at them made him realise how empty his life had been before he met Les Amis, quite by chance. He threw his clothes in, not wanting to be troubled by the past. Grunting, he lifted the chest onto his back before taking it over to Enjolras’ house. Opening the door, he saw Enjolras was not back yet. Grantaire sighed and started to make a meal and make a few marks on the ring. He had just put the pasta sauce on for it’s final boil when the door opened and Enjolras walked in. He looked dead to the world. Grantaire immediately left the stove and pushed Enjolras into one of the two wicker chairs by the wooden table before kissing him gently on the lips. Enjolras sighed and kissed Grantaire back. “Sorry I’m back late, love” he said.  
“Hush, hush. I understand. I know how hard you’re working. Now, are you going to stay awake long enough to have some food or do you want it for breakfast, cold, tomorrow?” Enjolras laughed at Grantaire’s not so serious threat. He pulled himself up to the table, as Grantaire pulled out a couple of bowls and served the pasta. He set one in front of Enjolras, who picked up his fork and started to nibble the pasta. “Yum! This is really good Grantaire!” he told him. Grantaire looked away shyly.  
“It’s not much” he said, embarrassed. He pulled his own bowl towards him and started to eat, steeling up his courage for what must be done. He couldn’t stand the tension any longer. “Enjolras,” he said, “You know how long I have admired you, called you Apollo...” Enjolras stopped him in mid sentence. “I know what you’re going to say Grantaire. Me being elected won’t change a thing. I will still love you, not any of the girls who throw themselves at my feet. I only love you. You are also too modest. This meal is superb!” and laughing, he shook his head and carried on eating. Grantaire gritted his teeth. “Enjolras, this isn’t about that. I have something for you, to let you know how much I believe in you.” Grantaire quietly got the box out of his pocket and said to Enjolras; “I want you to have this small gift from me. You have really helped me to cut down on the drink and to do something to make my life worthwhile. I love you, Marcelin Enjolras, and the man you will become. Marcelin, my Apollo, please accept this small gift.” And Grantaire held out the box. Enjolras took it curiously and opened the box. He saw the ring, a gold band with a large black stone, and a profile of Enjolras scratched onto the stone. Enjolras immediately recognised Grantaire’s work, but couldn’t place who had made the ring. He slipped it onto his long little finger. “Grantaire, this is...beautiful. Thank you!” and leaving his meal unfinished, he kissed Grantaire, and Grantaire was kissing him in return. Oh, how wonderful that night was. The amount of love between the two revolutionaries-the cynic and the leader- was unbelievable to witness. Enjolras felt like all the tension and pressure of being the revolutionary’s leader lifted from his shoulders. Grantaire felt that his life was now worth living; Enjolras loved him and wanted to spend the rest of his life with him. His acceptance of the ring proved that. “Grantaire, my love” he said, “I love you. We must wait until we know who has been elected, but if I win, I will pass a freedom and equality motion. Grantaire, if that happens...” Grantaire stopped him with a kiss. “No, Enjolras” he said, “I want to do this. Marcelin Enjolras, if you get elected and pass that bill, will you do me the honour of marrying me?”  
“Yes Grantaire, I will,” replied Enjolras, before leaning in to kiss Grantaire again. He ran his tongue over Grantaire’s lips, wanting entrance. Grantaire parted his lips, before letting his tongue meet Enjolras’. Stopping only to breathe, the kiss lasted a good five minutes. They pulled apart regretfully. “Come, Grantaire. We must rest if we are going to have to make radical decisions tomorrow.” Grantaire sighed at Enjolras’ words. He knew that the few hours left for Enjolras as a normal rebel leader were precious, before the weight of France’s mantle came over his shoulders. He took Enjolras’ hand, kissed it and led him upstairs to put him to bed.


	19. Results and Revelations

Les Amis gathered anxiously in the throne room of the palace. The polling had been taking place all day, and Cosette, Valjean and Eponine were still counting the votes. Julian Enjolras was sitting sullenly in a corner, his few friends avoiding him. The door opened and the counters walked into the room. They all looked so serious. Enjolras leapt to his feet when Cosette and Eponine walked in. He bowed to them, subtly motioning for Les Amis to do the same. Smiling slightly, Les Amis stood up and joined Enjolras. Valjean smiled at Marius, before taking the piece of paper Cosette handed him. He stood on the table from the previous day. Cosette opened the doors again, and the public came through the doors, all eager to hear who was going to lead them. “After a turnout of 99%,” Valjean began, his rich voice carrying to the very back of the room, “The people have voted for Monsieurs Feuilly, Combeferre, Courfeyrac, Lesgles, Prouvaire, Joly and Baron Pontmercy as ministers, to be lead by Marcelin Enjolras of Les Amis de ABC.” Cheers erupted through the room. Julian Enjolras looked at his son in despair. He knew Enjolras would have to kill him for what he’d done. Enjolras looked at his father, before motioning to one of the National Guard standing watching the crowd for any trouble. He came over immediately and bowed to the insurgent he had been firing at the week before. Enjolras acknowledged this with a wave of his hand, before issuing orders. “Take this man back to his house, watch the house but don’t do anything yet. Allow him to go out but with a guard. Take 10 men for this. Guard him night and day until I or one of my colleagues sends further instructions. Go.” And the guard bowed politely before going over to Julian and pulling him up. Julian complied weakly and shot Enjolras a look of pure hate before following the guard. Motioning for ten of his colleagues to accompany them, they escorted Julian out and back to his home. Grantaire noticed Enjolras looking at his father’s departing back. Excusing himself from his conversation with Courfeyrac (what was the man talking about anyway?); he slunk over to Enjolras and slipped an arm around his waist. Enjolras smiled at Grantaire, grateful that he was there for him, before gently pulling away and moving over to the table. Cosette gave Enjolras a congratulatory kiss, which he returned in kind, before Eponine swept him into a big bear hug. Enjolras chuckled softly and stepped onto the table to address his people. “My fellow citizens!” he cried, drawing the attention of the entire room. “I thank you for electing me to this position. I promise to be a good, fair leader for you. In addition, I promise you, that starting from next Thursday; I will hold a weekly meeting here in the palace for you to approach myself and the other members of Les Amis to bring to our attention anything that you want to ask in person. You may also write to us. Anything directed to the ministers of Les Amis will reach us. Once a month, we will also meet here for a question and answer session. You may ask us anything, and we will try and answer them!” Enjolras admitted with a chuckle. The crowd laughed along with him. This was the sort of leader they wanted, someone who put the needs of the people first and was able to laugh along with them. “I won’t bore you with more speeches, but rest assured that because of his crimes, my father, Julian Enjolras, who stood against me, will be arrested and brought to justice. He is no blood relation of mine, we just happen to share the same name. He is being guarded and will be arrested in due course. But now, good people, I will ask you to leave to allow us to sort out the cabinet. I will keep you informed of the latest developments during our monthly forums. Once again, thank you for voting for us. Viva Republic! Viva Liberty!”  
“Viva Les Amis! Viva Enjolras!” the crowd roared back. Enjolras acknowledged them with a smile and stepped down. The National Guard shepherded the people out of the room, leaving Enjolras with his friends. Once the last person had gone out of the door, Enjolras visibly relaxed and went to join his knot of friends. Valjean smiled at him, which Enjolras returned, before he was interrupted by Feuilly coming up to him shyly, egged on by Courfeyrac.  
“Enjolras,” began Feuilly quietly, “As soon as we had won the barricades, I took the liberty of making something for you, to help in your new office of power.” Enjolras was confused.  
“I’m sorry, Feuilly, but I can’t see how a fan could help me in my work.”  
“But it’s not a fan!” Feuilly grinned, before reaching into his pocket and taking out a small box. “I am a jeweller in my spare time, when I need the money, specialising in rings. I’m sure Mademoiselle Cosette would be able to show you her ring I made her!” Cosette stepped forward and showed Enjolras her ring, proudly displayed on her finger. Enjolras smiled at her, and she bobbed a curtsy and stood back. “I took the liberty, Enjolras, of making a ring for you to use as a seal, like Marius’ ring. And here it is!” Feuilly exclaimed, opening the box as he bent onto one knee to present it to Enjolras. Enjolras looked at the ring in awe.  
“Feuilly...I don’t know what to say! This is beautiful! Thank you! But, isn’t it a coronation ring?”  
“Yes, it is. I wanted to make sure you liked it before your coronation so I could make another if you don’t like it! I hope it will be useful?”  
“Oh yes, thank you Feuilly. It wasn’t you by any chance who made this ring, is it?” Enjolras asked him as he pulled off the ring Grantaire had given him the previous night.  
“I did Enjolras, but I didn’t make the carving. I wonder who...oh no!” Feuilly gasped, realising what he’d done. “You’re not...” Enjolras blanched at these words. He wondered what had happened that previous night. With a meaningful look at Enjolras, he added, “it doesn’t matter. Anyway, you are happy with this ring?”  
“Yes. Thank you. Combeferre?” Enjolras asked as he turned away from Feuilly. “Will you give this to me at my coronation?”  
“I will, Enjolras. You give me a great honour.” Combeferre replied, his happiness evident in his smile. Enjolras relaxed his face into a smile. He looked around and saw Grantaire. Catching his eye, he widened his slightly, asking a question. Grantaire looked at him and nodded, before making his way over to Enjolras, ready to support him. Enjolras took a deep breath.  
“My friends,” he began, “As we all know, one of my ideas for a free France is complete freedom of expression. The people are allowed to like whomsoever they wish. I would like you to know that this law would affect us all.” Enjolras paused for a moment, nervous. He knew that what he was about to say could change Les Amis views about him for good. He could never again be their Apollo. “Even us in Les Amis. I would like, no, we would like to announce that Grantaire and I are lovers, and we are engaged.” A stunned silence met Enjolras’ words, before the room erupted in cheers for the happy couple. Enjolras grinned and looked for Grantaire, who snuck up behind him and leapt onto the table before capturing Enjolras’ lips with his own. Enjolras melted into Grantaire’s kiss.  
“They took that better than expected, fearless leader,” laughed Grantaire when he pulled away from the kiss to breathe.  
“Indeed they did, my love” Enjolras replied. They stepped down off the table and were swamped in hugs and backslapping. “A double wedding, I think?” Enjolras shouted to Marius, who just grinned in response, happy for him. Cosette beamed up at Marius, who in turn swept her into an embrace before bringing his lips to hers. “Well, we can’t let Enjolras and Grantaire have all the fun now, can we?” he grinned before placing a gentle kiss on her lips. Cosette laughed and kissed him back. “Excuse me please people!” Courfeyrac called to them, bringing the lovers back into the real world, “but we do have an arrest warrant to make out and plans to make for Enjolras’ coronation.”  
“Planning, planning, planning!” sighed Enjolras. “My whole life has been based around planning!”  
“We can help you though, this time. We will need each other,” said Lesgles softly.  
“You don’t need to do this alone, Enjolras. We’re all here for you.” Prouvaire soothed him. Enjolras sighed again. He stood up straighter and led his friends out of the room to the study where Louis-Philippe had done his personal writing. He sat down on the chair and pulled a sheet of parchment towards him. He was about to write on it, thinking it was blank, before he looked closer. His face suddenly drained of the little colour it had regained. Grantaire immediately pushed a chair under Enjolras’ legs to stop him from falling and called Joly over.  
“Enjolras? Are you alright?” Joly asked, concerned, feeling his forehead for a temperature. Enjolras tried to fend him off weakly, but Joly was insistent. While Enjolras was busy, Grantaire picked up the parchment he had been looking at. Grantaire gasped as he read the words on the parchment.

By Order of His Majesty Louis XVI  
I, Julian Enjolras, Chief of Household, hereby issue an arrest warrant for one Marcelin Enjolras for treason against King and Country. He is hereby to be given a short trial, but he will be found guilty of High Treason and will be executed by Firing Squadron at dawn on June 7th 1832. I add further names to this warrant, who will be arrested, found guilty of Treason and executed by Guillotine at dawn on June 7th 1832. Léandre Grantaire, Gaubert Courfeyrac, Francisque Combeferre, Jean Prouvaire, Joachim Feuilly, Baron Marius Pontmercy, Donat Joly and Alban Lesgles. This is an order from the King. Signed ............... on the .... day of ....................... in the year ........... .

“God! Julian Enjolras certainly was determined to get rid of Les Amis!” exclaimed Grantaire as he finished reading. Enjolras looked up at Grantaire.  
“I’m sorry,” he said weakly. “I put us all in danger with my ideas. If it wasn’t for a stroke of luck on Marius’ part with him having an idea of a night attack, we would all be dead! And it would have been my fault!” Enjolras burst into tears. Grantaire immediately put his arms around him and shushed him. Eponine crouched down by his feet and took a handkerchief from her chemise for Enjolras to dry his eyes. He took it gratefully. Being leader of a country was not something he was used to, and he was emotional. The honour he had been given, and to find a warrant for his arrest and execution due to be signed was too much for his young soul to cope with. He dried his eyes and looked up at his friends. They all looked at him in awe. They, who had never seen his human side, were looking at him with awe! “It’s alright, Enjolras,” Cosette said gently. “We’re here. We won’t let you down.” Enjolras looked at Cosette and fell into her arms, the tears falling again. Marcelin Enjolras, who hadn’t cried like this for years, was letting all of his grief out in this woman’s arms. Cosette soothed him gently, a mother to the lost boy. Enjolras inwardly felt ashamed of himself for showing any emotion. He stopped crying and Cosette placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. He kissed her back and helped her up, looking embarrassed at the tearstains on the shoulder of her gown. She saw him looking. “It’s fine, Enjolras” she soothed. “I’m always going to be there for Marius, it only seems appropriate I’m going to be there for you too.” She gave him her hand. He squeezed it and raised it to his lips. Cosette blushed, and Marius stepped up to her. He whispered something in her ear, and she nodded eagerly. Enjolras wondered what he had asked her. He didn’t have long to wait. Marius cleared his throat.  
“Monsieur le President, would you do me the honour of being my best man for my wedding?”  
“Of course, Baron Pontmercy!” Enjolras replied smiling. “What have I told you? Call me Enjolras as normal, or I’ll have to refer to you by your title too!”  
“Is that an order, Fearless Leader?” Marius teased.  
“Yes it is. Now shut up Pontmercy, and let me get some work done” Enjolras snapped good-naturedly. He pulled a clean sheet of Parchment towards him, Grantaire having disposed of the old warrant. Lesgles found him a pen and inkpot, while the rest of Les Amis spread around the room to inspect the files and books found there. Valjean stood up and went up to Enjolras, who was busy scratching away. His face was scowled in concentration. He sighed and put the pen down, reading what he had written.

On behalf of Monsieur Le President, Marcelin Enjolras of Les Amis d’ABC, we are hereby commanded to arrest one Julian Enjolras for Harassment of one Mademoiselle Eponine Thénardier and Murder of one Madame Aimee Enjolras. The accused will be required to stand trial for his crimes. Signed Marcelin Enjolras, President, on the 10th day of June in the year 1832.

Enjolras heated up some wax and searching around for a seal, he found one in the draw of the desk. He looked closely at it and saw that it was labelled ‘Authentic Document’. He smiled and poured the wax onto the parchment and impressed the stamp onto the rapidly drying wax. It was done.  
“Grantaire, come here.” Enjolras commanded his love. Grantaire came to him quickly.  
“My love, what is it?” he asked, concerned.  
“I want you to arrest my father. I know you are not the National Guard, or the Police, but I cannot execute my own father. I want you to arrest him and kill him, to make it look like he was killed resisting arrest authorised by the President himself. You must do this, Grantaire, for me.” Grantaire kissed Enjolras’ forehead.  
“I will take a squadron of guards tomorrow.” Grantaire confirmed.  
“No,” Enjolras shook his head. “I don’t want a squadron of guards; it is more to keep quiet. Just take one or two men.”  
“In that case, can I take a couple of Les Amis? They know to keep quiet.”  
“It’s risky,” admitted Enjolras. “Julian may see them and recognise them.”  
“How about Monsieur Fauchelevant? And Mademoiselle Eponine. We both know how well she can disguise herself as a boy!”  
“I would be honoured to do this service for you.” Valjean cut in. Enjolras jumped.  
“I’m sorry, Monsieur! I didn’t see you there!”  
“It is no problem, Enjolras. In fact, I wished to ask a favour of you.”  
“Go on,” Enjolras nodded. Valjean took a deep breath.  
“Monsieur le President, I am an ex-convict, prisoner 24601. There is still a warrant out for my arrest, this time to execute me without trial due to a charge thought up by one Inspector Javert. I am, as I’m sure you’re aware, completely innocent of the other charges, mainly because I was working in the convent at the time of accusation. My daughter and the sisters can vouch for that. I wish to ask you to withdraw that warrant, so I can attend my daughter’s wedding in peace and then leave her to her new life. I wish to die an innocent man.”  
“I will repeal that order now. As of tonight, you are officially an innocent man, even though you have been since you were freed the first time. I followed your case during my studies. I promise you, no one else will have to suffer what you did for your family. I can also offer you a full pardon, as a thank you for fighting, ridding us of that troublesome spy and helping with the vote. No words, Monsieur Valjean, please. I want you to accept this pardon.” And Enjolras was scribbling away on another bit of paper. The wording was simple, but no less official.

This is an official pardon for one Monsieur Jean Valjean of crimes committed in the last thirty years and from this day forward, he is an innocent man in the eyes of the President of France, Marcelin Enjolras, and the law. Signed Marcelin Enjolras on the 10th day of June 1832.

Enjolras handed Valjean the piece of paper. Valjean smiled and inclined his neck in a small bow to Enjolras, who returned it in kind. Valjean moved over to the bookcase where the prison documents were kept and filed his pardon away in his file. He then moved to Eponine and tapped her on the shoulder. Eponine looked at him and he nodded towards Grantaire and Enjolras. Together they walked over to them.  
“Eponine, I want you to dress as a boy again. You will go with Grantaire and Fauchelevant and you will arrest Julian Enjolras. Here is the warrant,” Enjolras said, handing it to Valjean. “Grantaire knows what he must do, but if he fails, kill Julian, again making it look like a struggle. Do it tomorrow morning. I will send words to the guards tonight and they will know to be gone when they see you three walking down to his house. God willing, this will be the last execution like this in France!” Eponine nodded her consent. She was honoured to be arresting the man who had troubled her for so long. While Grantaire went to find some guard uniforms, she turned to Valjean.  
“Monsieur,” said she, “I know who you were. Prisoner 24601. Yet you managed to make yourself a respectable life. You raised Cosette as your own. How did you do that?”  
“By the grace of God” he replied simply. Eponine nodded, sensing that he didn’t want to explain further. Grantaire rushed back into the room with a pile of National Guard uniforms.  
“I got them!” he panted. “And I spoke to the ones guarding Julian. They said that they’d be out of the way when they see us coming tomorrow.”  
“Good!” cried Enjolras happily. “Now, I believe I said something about us all meeting at my house tonight?” and this was greeted with a cheer from Les Amis. Enjolras locked the study door behind him and led the way to his house to celebrate.

The next morning, Grantaire, Valjean and Eponine struggled into their Guard uniforms, before meeting back at Enjolras’ house. Enjolras was up himself, getting ready to go to the palace to start his first full day as President of France. The rest of Les Amis were meeting him there later. Enjolras had given them the morning off from the party last night. Enjolras was the only sober member of Les Amis that morning, but he had stopped Grantaire and Eponine drinking before they had drunk too much so they could deal with their task. Valjean could look after himself.  
“M-m-morning” yawned Enjolras as he met them at his door.  
“And good morning to you, Monsieur le President.” Valjean replied politely. “Is there anything else you would have us do, or just stay with the plan?”  
“Just stay with the plan, if you please Monsieur,” replied Enjolras. They all nodded. Enjolras shook hands with the three of them, ensuring he treated Eponine like any other gentlemen just incase someone was watching. They each went their separate ways, Enjolras to the palace and Valjean, Grantaire and Eponine to Julian’s house. They whistled twice, and in quick succession, three whistles sounded from the guards by the house. They were leaving. Grantaire closed his grip on the knife he had hidden in the jacket, easy to get to. They marched up to the house and silently opened the door. Julian was fast asleep in bed. Grantaire gestured to the others, and they blocked off the door. Grantaire silently slipped his knife into the sleeping man’s body and watched as Julian juddered in his sleep until his eyes opened briefly, then closed for good. Grantaire couldn’t help himself, he vomited all over Julian’s bed sheets. Valjean muttered a brief prayer in Latin for the dead man, before helping Grantaire and Eponine gather the sheets together and support Julian as Grantaire carried him out. They stole to the palace to report to Enjolras. Fortunately no-one was about at that time in the morning, so they were able to carry their bundle in relative secrecy. Enjolras looked up as he heard a knock on his study door. He opened it, and saw three National Guards with a bundle of bed sheets and a man thrown over Grantaire’s shoulder. He wordlessly pointed to the adjoining room, where a coffin was laid out ready. They quickly put Julian into the coffin and took it outside. They buried him in the shadow of the gallows where he tried to have his own son killed.   
“I win, Father,” Enjolras said as the earth closed on his father for the last time. He never spoke of the man again. The death was hushed up and within days the city had forgotten about Julian Enjolras, because there was another event to look forward too – the wedding of Baron Pontmercy and Mademoiselle Fauchelevant, the coronation of Enjolras and also Grantaire and Enjolras’ blessing ceremony. They were all happening on the same day, and the people began counting the days until July 11th, 1832.


	20. Through the Years...

“Do you, Marius, take Cosette to be your lawful wedded wife, in sickness and in health, for richer for poorer, until death do you part?”  
“I do.” Marius replied, looking into the eyes of his beloved.  
“And do you, Cosette, take Marius to be your lawful wedded husband, to honour and obey, in sickness and in health, for richer for poorer, until death do you part?”  
“I do.” Cosette replied, smiling at Marius.  
“With this ring, I thee wed” the bishop said, handing Marius the ring.  
“With this ring, I thee wed” Marius repeated, slipping the simple golden band made by Feuilly onto his wife’s hand.  
“With this ring, I thee wed” the bishop said again, handing Cosette the thicker of the two gold bands.  
“With this ring, I thee wed” she repeated, slipping it onto Marius’ long fingers.  
“By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may now kiss the bride.” And Marius removed Cosette’s veil from her face and kissed her with such adoration. They were finally as one.

“May God bless these children and keep them together. Marcelin and Léandre, in the eyes of God and the law, you are now in a blessed relationship. May it bring you great joy.” And the same bishop made the sign of the cross over the two bowed heads in front of him. Cosette grasped Marius’ hand as Enjolras and Grantaire stood up and shared their first kiss as married men.

“To the North, I give you Enjolras the Brave! To the East, I give you Enjolras the Just! To the South, I give you Enjolras the Merciful! To the West, I give you Enjolras the Honourable! To God, I give you Enjolras, President of France, ruler of the free peoples, bringer of Liberty!” And placing Enjolras’ coronation ring on his long finger and giving him the scroll of office, Enjolras was officially pronounced President of France.

A few years later, Marius, Cosette, Enjolras, Grantaire and the rest of Les Amis gathered in the cafe Musain. Cosette held two of her five children, Gavroche and Ramin Pontmercy, in either hand as Enjolras climbed up onto the old pool table he had so often stood upon during the planning for the revolution. He bounded up onto the table, and all gathered there saw the old fire still in his eyes. “My friends!” he began. “It has been many years since I stood before you and Gavroche broke the news of Lamarque’s death to us. I want to thank you for all your support the past few years. The people still support us. But I have gathered you here for a purpose. Some of you may recall Monsieur Fauchelevant, who fought with us, and whose daughter married Baron Pontmercy. Madame Pontmercy already knows of this news, but I wish to break it to you. The first of Les Amis to depart from this world was Monsieur Ultime Fauchelevant, or, to give him his true name, Monsieur Jean Valjean.” Whispers echoed throughout the room. The students had studied the Valjean case, thinking he was dead. To hear that he had been living and fighting with them was amazing. The students were all in the same mind; Valjean should never have been arrested for trying to save his family. They had all wanted to say to Valjean that he was the reason they were fighting, to save other people from his fate. “My friends,” Enjolras started again, “I would like to propose a toast to the good man’s memory. To Monsieur Jean Valjean.”  
“To Jean Valjean” the students repeated, taking a sip of whatever they had in their hands. It was port, they realised later, the best port to be found in France, the most regal drink, previously used for toasting the monarch.  
“Monsieur Valjean’s passing was a joyful one though,” Enjolras said again, “because he lived to see five of his grandchildren being born. I would also like to propose a toast to the Pontmercy family, and their children Gavroche, Ramin, Jean, Lise and Enjolras Pontmercy. To the Pontmercys”  
“To the Pontmercys” they replied. Cosette stood up. Enjolras nodded at her for permission to speak. “Marius and I would like to announce some more news. I am pregnant again, with my sixth child. It is thanks to you, Les Amis, on those fateful June days in 1832, that I am able to have such a large family. I would like to propose a toast to you. To Les Amis d’ABC.” She stated.  
“To Les Amis” they all replied. Cosette bobbed a small curtsey to Enjolras, who acknowledged it with a short bow of his head. She sat down and the rest of Valjean’s memorial passed in a blur. She was only aware of little Enjolras coming and resting his head on her knee in support. He was her eldest, being seven years old, and he already had traits of his namesake! He looked like him too, which worried Cosette slightly. She was certain Marius hadn’t noticed, but she refused to believe that one night could have had this effect. She smoothed his dark hair absently as she watched her other children.

Many years on from that incident, a figure hovered outside Enjolras’ house. It knocked, and Enjolras himself came to the door. He knew that knocking rhythm. “Cosette!” he breathed as he let her in. He took her coat, and as she moved into the light, Enjolras gasped. Her pretty face was covered in bruises, and blood ran from her lips. Her dress was torn and she staggered on her feet. He caught her and put her in his sitting room. She warmed up slowly. “Enjolras,” she murmured. He was by her side in an instant. “Who did this to you?” he asked. “I don’t know,” she said. “I was only coming to fetch Joly. Marius is ill and he needs a doctor. I was walking along the street, and these men just grabbed me and pushed me into a carriage. They took me to a building, I don’t know where it was, and kept me captive there for many days. I don’t want to tell what they did to me.” She paused to take a shaky breath. Enjolras knelt by her feet and took her hand in his, comforting her. “I managed to escape as they were bringing me my food this evening. They had left me unbound for once. I managed to flee the house, and I ran. I couldn’t find my way home, but I saw your street and came by to see if you could help me. Oh God, I don’t know what happened to Marius! I lost track of the time I was kept captive in that house!”  
“Hush!” Enjolras soothed. “I’ll send Grantaire, he’s not working tonight. He’ll go and get Joly and then they’ll go to Rue Plummet to help Marius. Those men will be looking for you. I want you to stay here and they won’t find you.”  
“My children...” she whispered.  
“Grantaire will bring them here also. I promise you, Cosette, we will not let this go unpunished.” He kissed her hand and left the room briefly to call Grantaire. He came down in an instant, before rushing in to give Cosette a hug. She hugged him back, grateful for the support. He looked her in the eyes. “Cosette, I promise you, I will bring back your children and your husband without a scratch.”  
“Thank you” she whispered, before falling into her first proper sleep for days. Grantaire stood up and crossed over to Enjolras, who was holding his hat for him. “Be safe, be quick, my love” Enjolras murmured, before pressing a quick kiss on Grantaire’s lips. Grantaire took his hat from Enjolras and ran out into the night.

Cosette awoke the next morning in pain. Her stomach hurt, her face hurt, everywhere hurt. She cried out in pain, and the sound of many feet ran in to the sitting room, where she’d stayed. Enjolras and all her children crowded around her, the stress written on their faces. She smiled at them, reassuring them that she was fine. Enjolras asked the children to move away so he could have a quiet word with their mother. They respectfully obliged the President and went back to their respective rooms. “Cosette,” Enjolras began softly, “I’m afraid I have some bad news. Marius was found in his bed with knife wounds, and a note saying ‘Men like me, we don’t forget.’”  
“Thénardier!” she gasped.  
“I’m sorry?” Enjolras asked, concerned.  
“My guardian when I was eight years old before papa came and took me away from him. This was his revenge, he couldn’t rob papa many years ago, when I was 18, he gave Marius some wrong information at our wedding, and since then has been trying to kill our family for years. He’s finally done it, got what he wanted-Marius’ death. He wanted them both dead, Marius and my father, but papa died while he was in America. That was his way of signing himself off.”  
“Have you seen Eponine?” Enjolras asked her, knowing she was Thénardier’s daughter. She looked up.  
“Yes, I did. When I was captured, she was there, some sort of servant to them. She couldn’t speak; the bastards had cut out her tongue. She showed me the only kindness I had when I was there. She loosened my bonds so I could sleep each night, and stopped them using me a few times, with no thought for herself. We both paid for it later though. I didn’t see Eponine for the last bit of my stay, but I heard one of them say something like, ‘that wench will not bother us any more’.” Enjolras stood up in anger, that someone would do such a thing to women! It was an outrage against the republic. He vowed to hunt them down, but the only way he could do that was to use Cosette as bait. He outlined his plan to her, and surprisingly, she agreed. Enjolras grasped her hand and led her to the bathroom to wash. He then called her children to him and told them what their mother must do. Enjolras Pontmercy was the most worried. Enjolras reassured him with a look.

The children stayed alone in the house that night. Cosette started out first, with Enjolras following a few meters behind. Moments later, as she turned into Rue Plummet, a carriage door opened. “Now that wasn’t very nice, was it my pretty?” a harsh male voice sounded from the box. “Leave me alone!” screamed Cosette, as a hand reached out and touched her cheek, before bringing it back and slapping her, hard. She gasped, and couldn’t protest as a strong arm grasped her wrist, yanking her back into the carriage. The door shut and the driver whipped the horses into a gallop. Enjolras jumped onto the back of the carriage and hung there, like Gavroche Thénardier used to do on his. Moments later, the carriage stopped and the door opened. Cosette was bundled out, her lips bleeding again, and her hands bound behind her. Two men jumped out of the carriage and grabbed one of Cosette’s arms each. Lifting her off the floor, they carried her into the house. Enjolras followed silently, after making sure they wouldn’t come back out. He arrived in a small room, furnished only with a chair. He had to fight to stop himself rushing out, as Cosette was tied tightly to the chair, gagged with a bit of rag. He let out a low whistle, their signal. She knew he was there. The door opened again and Old Man Thénardier emerged, carrying a young man of 19 with him. Enjolras started. Was that Gavroche? Thénardier flung the young man on the ground by Cosette’s feet. He pulled a knife out of his pocket. Cosette tensed as he drew near her and ran the flat of the blade down her smooth cheek. “Your husband is dead by this knife,” he hissed. Cosette’s eyes filled with tears. Thénardier laughed cruelly and kicked the young man who was lying on the ground. “I trust you know my son, Gavroche?” he asked mockingly. “Well, he tried to protect you and your worthless husband. A mistake he will now join his sister for! She disobeyed my orders by loosening your bonds and being kind to you! And now she is dead, and this one will join her now!” And Thénardier brought the knife down into Gavroche’s prone body. Enjolras had seen enough. Dashing out of hiding, he slammed into Thénardier and knocked him away from the dying boy and the bound girl. Enjolras grabbed the knife he always kept on him as a political leader, he always had to defend himself, and plunged it into Thénardier’s heart. A light lit up in Thénardier’s eyes as he recognised the man who killed him. “I’m sorry, Monsieur le President!” he breathed in his last breath. Then he was still. Cosette was silently crying with pain and grief for the young man at her feet. Enjolras left the dead man and turned to the boy. “Gavroche?” he asked. The boy turned to face him. “Lovely evening isn’t it, Enjolras?” he laughed, pain shooting across his face. “Please, Gavroche, don’t die!” he gasped. Gavroche just shook his head. “I’m ready to go, Enjolras. I can see Marius again, and Valjean, and Eponine. Remember, little people know, when little people fight. We may look easy pickings but we got some bite...” Gavroche paused to take a breath. When he started again, Enjolras joined in, his rich voice soothing the boy and the girl who watched hopelessly. “So never kick a dog, because it’s just a pup! You’d better run for cover when the pup grows up! And we’ll fight like twenty armies and we won’t give up!” And Gavroche died with a smile on his face. Enjolras turned to look at Cosette. Her face was pale and her hands were red. Cursing, Enjolras grabbed his knife and cut her bonds and removed the gag. She fell crying into his arms, before kneeling down and kissing Gavroche on the forehead. “Cosette...come on, we need to get out!” he whispered urgently. She looked hopelessly at Gavroche. “Why?” she whispered. “I don’t know, I just have a bad feeling.” Stooping down, he picked up Gavroche’s body and took Cosette’s hand, before running out of the house. They had hardly gone a few meters from the house when a rush of flame erupted from the house. “My God!” Cosette gasped, “he really intended to kill us all!”  
“Never trust a madman” said Enjolras grimly. “Now come on, we must arrange all of these funerals for the poor victims of Thénardier’s wrath.”

Many more years later, Enjolras Pontmercy stood with his brothers and sister to watch their mother’s coffin be carried into the vault set aside for Les Amis. In pride of place was Enjolras, who had died months earlier after catching an illness from tending to Grantaire, who had died from the same illness. All members of Les Amis had died in the last year, and Cosette was the last to go. She was buried next to her husband, and next to Enjolras. The gates of the vault closed for the last time, and a song sprang to Enjolras Pontmercy’s lips unbidden.  
“Do you hear the people sing  
Lost in the valley of the night?  
It is the music of a people  
Who are climbing to the light.   
For the wretched of the earth  
There is a flame that never dies.  
Even the darkest night will end  
And the sun will rise.   
They will live again in freedom  
In the garden of the Lord.  
They will walk behind the plough-share,  
They will put away the sword.  
The chain will be broken  
And all men will have their reward.   
Will you join in our crusade?  
Who will be strong and stand with me?  
Somewhere beyond the barricade  
Is there a world you long to see?  
Do you hear the people sing?  
Say, do you hear the distant drums?  
It is the future that they bring  
When tomorrow comes!   
Will you join in our crusade?  
Who will be strong and stand with me?  
Somewhere beyond the barricade  
Is there a world you long to see?  
Do you hear the people sing?  
Say, do you hear the distant drums?  
It is the future that they bring  
When tomorrow comes...  
Tomorrow comes!”  
“I won’t let you down, Enjolras!” vowed Enjolras to himself. He twisted the ring Cosette had given him when he became President of France after Enjolras stepped down. It was so much like Enjolras’ ring that Pontmercy laughed. He would lead France into another glorious age. “Viva Enjolras! Viva Republic! Viva Liberty! Viva Les Amis d’ABC!” he cried, before taking his siblings’ hands and leading them back to the palace.


End file.
